The Exposition
by SilverRope
Summary: Lara Croft, the Tomb Raider, participates in a cultural exposition in Gotham City. Mostly written from her perspective.


  
December 21, 1999  
  
This started out as a story to tell my daughter. The idea was to create a simple short story. The premise was to have a brief interaction with two well-known fictional characters and an adventure between them. It didn't turn out that way. The story took a life of its own, and I just followed. The end result became eight times longer than originally designed. The work was completed before October 30, 1999, but I took the extra pain to proofread, edit, and revise. I had taken some latitudes with their personalities, emotions, and reactions in certain situations. I apologize if I tread on someone else's perception of what the main characters should be or do, but this is fiction and there are different interpretations of them depending on whose version you read. Of course, this is my rendition of their encounter and I hope you enjoy it.  
  
Lara Croft and Tomb Raider are creations of Adrian Smith for Core Design and Eidos Interactive, and Tomb Raider comics are published by Top Cow Productions, Inc.  
  
Batman and related characters are creations of Bob Kane for Detective Comics, and published by DC Comics Inc.  
  
The characters and incidents featured in this story are entirely fictional. Any similarities to persons living or dead are purely coincidental. To infringe or challenge the copyrights or trademarks of the above is not the intention of this author.  
  
  
THE EXPOSITION - Part One  
  
  
The Concorde emerged out of the clouds from a flawless trip from London, and glided to the runway. The plane rolled to a stop at the boarding gate. Passengers disembarked and breathed the warm humid air surrounding the airport. They clattered through the walkway into a cool breeze from the air- conditioned terminal. Like a cattle stampede the passengers traveled through the hallways to the U.S. Customs area. There the luggages were collected, and lines formed at separate counters.  
One young lady, who found her suitcases sooner than the others, approached the Customs Officer and handed over her passport.  
"Lara Croft," the officer grumbled. He furrowed his brow and glanced at the young lady. She was dressed in khakis, dark v-neck tee shirt, a loose fitting blouse, and rose colored sunglasses perched above the hairline. Her auburn hair, wrapped in a tight braid, reached her narrow waist. She watched the officer's expressions as he examined her passport.  
"Open your bags and briefcase, ma'am," he growled.  
Lara pouted. During her previous trips she had breezed through Customs, but the day would come when she will have to stop. She knew that. Unfortunately it happened in front of an overweight, bad smelling officer.   
The bags were lifted on the counter and unzipped. When she noticed the officer leering at her breasts, the blouse was pulled over to cover her cleavage. She shuddered when the guard's sausage-like fingers groped around her underwear. From the opened briefcase, the laptop computer was started and demonstrated as truly a laptop computer.  
"How long is your stay in the United States?" he grunted.  
"Two weeks," she answered still holding her blouse.  
He stamped the passport and gave it to her. "Enjoy your visit," he muttered without emotion.   
With both hands she refolded some pants, closed her bags, and pulled them off the counter. After a few steps away, she looked over her shoulder.  
The officer's mouth hung open as he gawked.  
She shouted, "You can stop drooling now, and go back to work."  
His face turned red, and he called for the next person in line.  
A few yards away, near an exit door, a man held a large sign with 'CROFT' written on it. Next to him stood a young man who appeared familiar.  
Her eyes grew wide. "Steven? Steven Lancaster? Yes, it is you!" She kissed and hugged the young man. "Look at how handsome you are!" She held his hands and admired him.  
Steven, an inch taller than Lara, was dressed in a gray business suit and high glossed black shoes. He almost blended with the crowd if it wasn't for his shockingly blond hair.  
She smiled, "How long has it been? Five years? Six years? My Lord, look at you!" Her excitement couldn't be contained from the fact she knew someone on this first trip to a new city.  
"Six years and one month since we did those excavation digs in Central America. That was a long summer I will not forget," he grinned.  
She raised her eyebrows. "That's right. I went after my doctorate's degree after that summer. And you still look like you should be on the beach with a surfboard."  
"Oh, no. Thanks to you, I continued school and got a Master's Degree in Business Administration." He pulled on the bottom of his jacket, straightened his tie, and beamed.  
"Who is this gentleman with you? Is he your chauffeur? And are you my escort?" She placed a hand on Steven's elbow, tilted her head, and winked.  
"Actually, Lara, from what I understand, he is your driver. The foundation sponsoring your exhibit has picked up the hotel and travel expenses. Let me help you with your bags."  
Steven grasped Lara's briefcase while the driver carried her bags. They went outside and walked briskly to a silver stretch limousine.  
"When I heard there was a Croft exhibit for the Exposition, I asked when you were arriving so I could be here to greet you."  
"Steven, do you work for this foundation?" she asked.  
"No, no. I work for Gregor Shipping Company. It's a division of Gregor, Inc. The owner of the company, Elias Gregor, has an exhibit of his personal art collection as well. It was just by luck that I overheard you were also participating in the Exposition."   
He opened the car door and Lara climbed into the backseat. The luxurious Lincoln Continental was equipped with a six speaker stereo system and a CD changer, a car phone with a fax machine, a TV monitor with a video cassette recorder, and a bar with a small refrigerator. A glass partitioned allowed privacy between the driver and passengers. Sunroof, dark windows, and the fresh smell of leather seats made the occupants feel like royalty.  
"Oh, my Lord. This certainly is a well-stocked limousine. I can't believe they are paying for my travel and accommodations. Oh, Steven, tell the driver to go to the exhibit hall first. I have to check on the items that were shipped."  
Steven spoke to the chauffeur after the trunk was closed. "Driver, take us to the Galleria first, please."  
"Yes, sir. Tell Miss Croft there is a package for her next to the VCR."  
She found the sealed package, looked at Steven and raised her eyebrows. "I wonder what this could be?"  
"Maybe it's your 'Mission Impossible' assignment," he chuckled.  
Lara laughed.  
The car moved into traffic and steadily gained speed.  
After the package was ripped open, she found inside a video tape cartridge, a cellular phone with a recharger, a name tag with her title and name engraved in gold, and various tickets to shows, operas, concerts, exhibits, dinners, and the circus.  
Steven slid the tape into the VCR. Lara reclined in the backseat and waited.  
The monitor blinked, and then darkened. Seconds later a businessman, seated behind a desk, appeared on the monitor.  
"Doctor Lara Croft, welcome to Gotham City. My name is Bruce Wayne, Chief Executive Officer and President of Wayne Enterprises. I wish to thank you in accepting our invitation to showcase your collection during our city's cultural exposition. All efforts have been made to make your stay a pleasant and enjoyable one."  
"He looks rather somber. Have you ever met this Bruce Wayne? Do you know much about him?" she asked and opened the cellular phone.  
"Personally, no. His name appeared a few times in the society pages of the local paper with some supermodel. Other than that I know he inherited his family's money, but I think he keeps aloof from any business decisions of his company. His somber looks could be a hangover from partying the night before."  
"... a room is reserved for you in the Grand Hilton Hotel, one of the finest hotels in Gotham City. A pre-celebration dinner will be held tonight at eight in the hotel's main ballroom. City officials, dignitaries, sponsors, and other exhibitors..."  
" Bloody hell. I wanted some time to get over the jet lag and time difference," she complained.  
"... if there is anything else you need to make your stay as comfortable as possible, please use the cell phone that came with this videotape. Press star, two, two, eight, and I will personally see to it your comfort has been met. Thank you again, and enjoy your stay."  
The cell phone was turned on and the number dialed.   
"Maybe I could excuse myself from tonight's celebration. I do need to rest." She turned to Steven, but he watched the promotional advertisements for the Gotham City Exposition, which were included on the tape. He looked like a child watching a Disney movie.  
The cell phone beeped, booped, burred a couple of times, and then clicked.  
"Wayne Manor." The baritone voice was smooth as silk.   
Quickly she surmised the voice did not belong to the executive secretary that had scheduled the shipment of her collection, or arranged the flight from London on short notice.   
"May I speak with Mr. Bruce Wayne, please?"  
"May I ask who is calling?"   
"Lara Croft."  
"Ahhh, Dr. Croft! Welcome to Gotham City. I hope your flight was a pleasant one?" The baritone voice became warmer.  
"Uneventful, thank you very much," she smiled. "Whom am I speaking with?"  
"Alfred Pennyworth, at your service. I am Mr. Wayne's butler."  
"May I speak with him, please?"  
"I'm sorry, Dr. Croft. Mr. Wayne is presently unavailable. Is there a message I may forward to him?"   
"Oh, dear." Lara hesitated, and then asked, "In regards to tonight's celebration at the Grand Hilton Hotel, is it mandatory that I attend?"  
"Your attendance is not a requirement, Dr. Croft. But Mr. Wayne will be present, and I am sure he will be greatly disappointed if you did not attend. I do hope you plan to make an appearance," he entreated.  
Lara felt the limousine slow down due to traffic to the city. She looked around the interior and shifted uneasily.  
"Well... considering the short notice and expense to get me here... I suppose I could make an appearance."  
"And you certainly don't have to stay for the duration of the dinner," he added. "Maybe you will meet an associate, or a benefactor to fund your next expedition."  
She briefly covered the phone's mouthpiece and laughed to herself. "Very well, Alfred. I will attend tonight's dinner."  
"Excellent! I will relay your message to Mr. Wayne. Is there anything else, Dr. Croft?"  
"Yes, Alfred. You may call me Lara."  
"As you wish, Miss Lara. Have an enjoyable evening."  
She closed the phone and watched the tape with Steven. "Do you have plans tonight?" she asked.  
He pulled his eyes away from the monitor. "No, not really. Why? What about tonight's dinner?"  
She fanned two dinner tickets in front of him.  
He grinned, "Certainly glad I dressed for the occasion." Then his grin faded and his eyes widened. "Look, Lara. Look outside."  
Through the window was a view of the spiraling skyscrapers of Gotham City. Lara's expression became as if she had witnessed the wreckage from a roadside fatality.   
"Oh, my. It looks so..." Her voice trailed off and her brow furrowed from a mental pain. For a moment she scanned the skyline in silence.  
The city was engulfed in darkness. Skyscrapers resembled gnarled fingers reaching for the light. Lower buildings were of unusual design with buttresses, cross supports, and archaic architecture. Most of the smaller buildings were exaggerated neo-classical style with thick, thick columns and under a constant shadow.  
"Very different," Steven said.  
"Different is not the word! Mostly the city has Gothic styling, a bit of modernism over here, neo-classical over there, and something else all in between. It's horrendous! There should be bats flying between the buildings to complete the image! This city needs more help than a cultural exposition can offer to attract people!" she stated and continued to view the skyline.  
Steven couldn't tell if she was serious or humorous. He shrugged his shoulders and leaned on the armrest. "Well, they already have a bat."  
"What did you say?"  
"I said, they already have a bat."  
"What do you mean? Is it some sort of mascot?"  
"No, no," he chuckled and settled into the seat. "City officials won't admit it, but newspapers have reported there is a vigilante roaming around the city. A crimefighter, of sorts."  
"Really! How did they find this out?"  
"The reporters say they have their 'informed sources'. One reporter interviewed an off-duty policeman. He said the officer overheard a couple of guys in the holding cells talking about a confrontation with a creature that was half-man, half-bat. The reporter called it The Batman." He made a spooky noise and wiggled his fingers.  
Lara shuddered. "I hope it decides not to fly over me while I'm visiting. I have had my fill of winged creatures, thank you very much."  
"Some reporters got on the bandwagon and blamed everything from the drop on crime to the changes in the stock market on The Batman. In fact, one reporter suggested a recent drug bust occurred because of him. That happened a couple of weeks ago."  
The limousine stopped in front of a large modern building decorated with colored banners and flags. A security officer popped out of a guardhouse and approached the car.  
"Sorry folks, the Galleria is closed. It will open tomorrow at ten," he said.  
"Officer, my name is Lara Croft. There is an exhibit of mine inside. I only wish to retrieve an article for tonight's dinner." She showed the guard her gold nametag.  
"Do you have any identification, miss?"  
She handed her passport.   
The guard took both and walked over to a monitor in an alcove next to the building entrance. The nametag was slipped into a slot, some buttons punched, and the passport was examined. He waved for Lara to come to him.  
"I'll try not to be long," she said to Steven before stepping out of the limousine. She scurried to the guard.  
Steven watched as the guard spoke to Lara while pointing to the monitor. The glass entrance door opened and they both entered the building.  
"She is still as beautiful when I first saw her," Steven sighed. He reclined in the seat and looked through the sunroof.  
Fifteen minutes later Lara opened the car door and climbed in. She carried a leather knapsack.  
"What's in the bag?"   
"You'll see. Driver, Grand Hilton Hotel, please." She glanced at her watch and shook her head. "I don't know if I have enough time to get ready for tonight's dinner." She opened the knapsack and pulled out two silver 9mm automatic pistols.  
  
***  
  
The Grand Hilton Hotel stood majestically amongst its dreary neighbors. It was an elegant U-shaped structure with an enclosed courtyard. The car arrived through the cobblestone driveway, and they were immediately checked in. A bellhop escorted them to the twentieth floor and to an exquisite two-room suite decorated in soft blue hues. He placed the luggage in the bedroom closet, walked to the drapes and exposed sliding glass doors to a walkout balcony. In the living room he exposed another set of sliding glass doors to a second, separate walkout balcony. The dimmer switches for the recessed lights were adjusted for each room, and the room key placed on the vanity table next to the door.  
Steven held out some bills.  
The bellhop raised his hands. "Everything has been taken care of, sir. Enjoy your stay." He exited and closed the door without a sound.  
Lara opened her bags and pulled out a small bag and plastic bottles.  
"Maybe I should come back later so you can get ready," Steven said from the other room.  
"Please don't go. We haven't spoken for years. I would like to know what you have done so far," she spoke from the bathroom and placed her bottles aside. She walked to the bedroom doorway and saw Steven next to the vanity table. "I received the letters you wrote. Let me apologize for not responding to them. I was quite busy with lectures, book signings, and all that. Please forgive me." She kicked off her shoes and removed her blouse.  
"That's okay." He stood still and stunned.  
"What have you been doing up until now?" She unbuttoned and unzipped her khakis. Steven's hypnotic look made her stop. She twirled a finger. "Turn around. It's impolite to stare."  
He faced the wall, but his eyes caught Lara's reflection on a mirrored decoration.  
"Well... I was mostly in school in Florida, trying to get my master's degree..." He saw the khakis drop to the floor while she pulled off the cream colored tee shirt. "Umm... and also trying to get an even tan."  
The bedroom door was closed halfway.   
"You found your present job after school?" She unfastened her bra and walked to the closet opposite the door. A terry cloth robe hung within the closet. The bra was dropped on the corner of the bed and the robe slipped on. Meanwhile the door moved by itself until it was wide opened.  
Steven gulped and responded, "Ahhh... yeah. I learned a particular software a couple of years ago. The company was interested and sent me for extra training. Now I'm doing an installation for them in Gotham City."  
Her panties were removed, and the robe tied closed. Her head lifted up and saw the door open. Immediately she went to the door. "Tell me you weren't peeking." She stuck her head out between the small gap.  
"I wasn't peeking!" His eyes darted to the floor, ceiling, and wall.  
She twisted her lips. "Right." Lara backed away from the barely opened door and spoke, "Are you seeing someone steady? I hope I won't get you in trouble if you are."  
"Just dating some of the office girls, but nobody steady." He moved from the table to the couch. "How about you? Are you still seeing that German guy?"  
"Past history," she replied from the bathroom. She turned the water on in the shower stall next to the small Jacuzzi.  
"So why did you bring guns?"  
"A necessary commodity during my adventuring days. I take them along on all of my trips. I... feel comfortable with them nearby." She stuck her head out from behind the door. "Stay and watch the telly while I shower and get ready."  
The bedroom door closed.  
Steven sat on the couch, grabbed the remote from the coffee table, and flipped through the channels. A Braves baseball game was settled upon, but he put a hand under his chin, glanced at the closed bedroom door, and sighed.  
  
***  
  
It was a quarter to nine when they left the room and waited for the elevator.   
Lara wore a black full-length evening dress. It had a slit on the side from the hem to the halfway point of her thigh. A sleeveless gown, which fastened around the neck like a halter. The gown covered the front completely, but left the back exposed. She wore a small black jacket, black high heels, and carried a black handbag on a spaghetti strap. Her hair cascaded like a waterfall down her back and around her shoulders. Her composure looked very business-like, and almost distant. In the elevator she stood without expression and kept her eyes straight ahead.  
"Did you bring a gun?" Steven asked.  
She patted her handbag. Her eyes lost focus, and she appeared deep in thought.  
The elevator stopped and the door opened.  
She refocused her eyes, straightened her back, and raised her head slightly. With a hand placed inside Steven's left arm, she strode gracefully down the plush hallway to the main ballroom door. The high heels made Lara a couple of inches taller than Steven.   
They approached the doorman. Steven handed him the tickets.  
The doorman responded, "Ah, honored guests. Do you have your nametags?"  
Lara pulled it out from her handbag.  
"Please keep it on display. Thank you." Inside the ballroom he called a busboy to escort them to their seats as they entered.  
Some dinner guests turned their heads, and others whispered, to see who were led to their table. The majority of the attendees stoically maintained their attention on the guest speaker at the podium.   
Lara and Steven were seated at a side table, close to the wall, in between the head table and the exit. The people at their table had finished or were finishing the main course.  
As soon as they sat down, two waiters came with food and salad, and said, "We apologize for not having any prime rib to serve, but we have all the stuff shrimp you can eat!"  
Steven smirked, but Lara nodded and said, "That's quite alright."  
One of the matronly-looking ladies at the table whispered, "I love your accent. Are you from England?"  
"Yes, I am," Lara whispered. "Have I missed anything important?"  
"Just the mayor's speech and a couple of old farts with important titles," the woman chuckled. "The man speaking now is Willard Slaughter, Curator of the Galleria. He's summarizing a history of the Galleria and its vision for the future. He listed the exhibits during the week. One of them is from the personal collection of that adventurer, Lara Croft." Her voice had a spark of glee.  
"I'm Lara Croft." She unhooked the nametag and showed the lady.  
"Oh, my! You are!" the woman said in a louder voice. She pulled on the sleeve of the man seated next to her. "Honey, this is Lara Croft!"  
The rest of the table turned their attention to her. They introduced themselves and riddled her with questions. When the nearby tables found out, a few were bold enough to approach her and introduced themselves. Soon a small commotion circled around Lara at their end of the ballroom. It prevented her from taking a bite to eat.  
The speaker stopped and peered in their direction. Someone from the floor told him what the excitement was about.  
"Ladies and Gentlemen," Willard Slaughter addressed the audience. "I have just been informed that Dr. Lara Croft has arrived--."  
The attendees applauded their welcome. Lara stood for a moment, nodded to everyone, and sat down.  
"And she will be lecturing in our auditorium the following weekend. Now, please, take your seats. We are almost finished."  
The woman seated next to her asked, "So you are a doctor?"  
"Well, if you do this sort of thing long enough, eventually you will get a degree and title," Lara quipped.   
While everyone laughed, she popped a shrimp into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed.   
Lara asked in a low voice, "Excuse me. Where is Mr. Bruce Wayne seated?" She popped another shrimp into her mouth while the others looked around.  
"He sat at the head table over there," one gentleman said.  
Another pointed, "Here he is! Coming this way!"  
She noticed a figure standing over her left shoulder. Her face turned red when she realized the shrimp was still in her mouth.  
"Glad you could make it, Dr. Croft. I'm Bruce Wayne."  
Standing up halfway from her seat, she extended her right arm while her left hand held a napkin over her mouth. A greeting was muffled, and she coughed.   
His hand was placed on her shoulder and gently pushed her back into the chair. He squatted with his head inches from her shoulder.  
"Finish your meal. I just came by to see if everything was all right," he whispered.  
Lara nodded and fixed her eyes on Bruce's. She allowed her senses to soak in the experience of meeting this gorgeous sponsor: intense eyes, dark hair, strong chin, and angular jaw. His cologne disarmed and weakened her. His warm breath tingled her spine.  
"I also came to relay a message. The curator of the Galleria would like you to stop by as early as possible tomorrow. He will need assistance on how to showcase your collection." He crept close and whispered into her ear, "I will catch up with you tomorrow, Dr. Croft."  
He walked away at the same time the dinner guests applauded for the speaker.  
She swallowed the shrimp and spoke towards Bruce's direction. "Please, call me Lara."   
But he was already beyond earshot, and the applause drowned her voice.   
She watched as he walked into the hallway where an attractive girl in a short dress was waiting for him. Lara placed her fork down and folded her napkin.  
"Aren't you hungry, dear?" the woman next to her asked.  
She glanced at the woman. "I seem to have lost my appetite."  
The woman looked over her shoulder to the door, leaned towards Lara, and giggled. "Maybe you should have asked for a side order of Bruce Wayne."   
Lara dropped her napkin on her plate and drank the water. She hid her embarrassment and regained her composure. With her hands folded on her lap, she calmly answered questions from the group of people gathered around her.  
Steven finished his meal. He appeared grim, and glanced around. The crowd's attention circled about Lara, and he was unsettled by it. He put his elbows on the table, clasped his hands, and rested his chin on the thumbs. A voice called his name, which startled him.  
"Steven, aren't you suppose to be working on my project?" A slim, handsome gentleman edged up and patted him on the shoulders.  
"Oh, Mr. Gregor! I'll be on it tomorrow!"  
"Don't worry about that now. Just introduce me to your popular and lovely dinner companion."   
"Oh, yes! Sure!" Steven touched Lara's arm.   
She turned and saw the gentleman moving close to her.  
"Lara, this is Elias Gregor. Mr. Gregor, this is--."  
"The most beautiful and highly esteemed Dr. Lara Croft, adventurer extraordinaire. Charmed to meet you." He took her hand and kissed it.  
"The pleasure is mine," she replied. "Steven told me you have an exhibit at the Galleria as well."  
"Yes, I do, and you must come tomorrow afternoon! I will give you a personal tour of my collection! Two o'clock! Please!" he pleaded.  
Mesmerized by the sparkle in his light grey eyes she nodded in agreement. "Yes, I will be there."  
"Very good. I look forward to spend time with you."   
A gentleman by the doorway waved.  
Gregor looked at the gentleman and smiled. "Until then, Dr. Croft. Please excuse me." He kissed Lara's hand again and walked towards the waving man.  
Lara stood. "Excuse me, everyone. Thank you for an enjoyable time, but I must go to my room and rest."  
Steven assisted by pulling her chair out. They walked slowly to the door and stopped to chat briefly with the Mayor of Gotham City.  
In the elevator Lara sighed heavily.  
"Glad that is over, huh?"  
"Actually, it's just the beginning. Right now I feel the jet lag has overtaken me. My only worry was to make a good impression with my sponsor." She snickered, "I don't think that went very well. He must think I'm a stupid git." She leaned against the wall and lowered her head.  
"I... thought you did... very well," he stammered.  
"Thank you, Steven." She raised her head and looked at him. "As soon as I get to the room, I am putting in a call to my personal secretary. Probably get her answering machine at this hour, but I'll have her do some research first thing in the morning."  
"On what?"   
"Any information on Bruce Wayne, Wayne Enterprises... and your employer, Elias Gregor. Just as a matter of research."  
"Oh, I see," he replied.  
A few seconds passed in silence until the elevator door opened.  
"Lara, I need to know something." Steven took a deep breath. "Did you receive the last couple of letters I sent you?"  
"Yes, I did... and I still have them." She held his hand. "Your words were so sweet... really... but... I didn't know how to reply properly without..." She paused and looked at him.  
His head was tilted down and his eyes were closed.  
She took his other hand. "Steven, you are a dear friend and I am very glad to have met you. But I don't think of you in that fashion. Do you understand?"  
"Yeah, it was quite obvious when you didn't write back."  
"I don't think it would have been appropriate to respond by letter. But I apologize for not responding at all."  
"You're doing very well, right now."  
"Thank you. Right now I need my friends, and of all my friends, I'm happy you are here." She hugged him.  
"You can't blame this young man for not trying."  
"You are not so young," she retorted.  
"Younger than you."  
"By three years!"  
"Well, that's still young, and I'm surprised you remembered."  
Lara giggled, "You're teasing me exactly when I first met you."  
They laughed for a few minutes.  
She asked, "How about lunch tomorrow?"  
"No. I'll be in the office working on Mr. Gregor's project."  
"The following day, then. Mark that down." She pointed a finger at him.  
He hugged her and kissed her cheek.   
"Good night, Lara."   
"Good night, Steven."   
She watched him disappear into the elevator.  
  
***  
  
Part Two  
  
The morning light found Lara in the hotel workout room. She stretched, jogged on a treadmill, worked on a punching bag, and finished with a few laps in the pool. Afterwards her muscles were soothed in the Jacuzzi in the room. It was ten minutes after eight when she looked at the time. She counted on her fingers.   
"Should be enough time to do the research." She wrapped a towel about her and a second towel around her hair.   
The laptop was pulled from the briefcase and connected to the phone jack. She downloaded her e-mail, went offline, and browsed. The responses from her personal secretary were highlighted. Her secretary also sent a note:  
  
Lara,  
Shame on you. You should have done this research before your trip. A summary of what I found: press releases from Wayne Enterprises & their divisions on mergers, purchases, sales, as well as new product announcements; annual report from Wayne Enterprises & their divisions; press releases from Gregor, Inc., on purchases & sales of companies; news articles on The Wayne Foundations charity work & charities they sponsor and/or support; tabloid news from different publications in society pages or gossip columns regarding Bruce Wayne. One particular headline about the death of parents. Is there something specific you are looking for?  
Connie  
P.S. Still researching Elias Gregor.  
  
Lara scanned the press releases and news articles. Page after page zipped through the screen as she caught words here and there. At the tabloid news she stopped and read.  
"My word, Mr. Wayne, you have been a busy man. Overindulgence with movie stars and models certainly makes you the ultimate playboy of the highest degree. Now I have an idea of who you are," she grinned.  
Lara closed the tabloid news and chuckled. She was about to shut off the laptop, then decided to open the headline news.  
A newspaper article appeared with a picture of a little boy looking over two bodies covered with white sheets. His sad eyes and deep frown made her heart sink. She read the article. "Murdered in front of their son..." Both hands covered her mouth.  
  
***   
  
Lara arrived at the Galleria at a quarter to ten. She slipped her nametag into the slot, typed a code the guard gave her, and entered. A passing employee directed her to the new exhibit area. She meandered through the other exhibits and stopped to absorb the displays of art, architecture, and artifacts.   
Her collection was in the fifth room off the main hallway. The items were placed on individual pedestals with glass protection. She walked around the room and viewed the artifacts. One gold plaque was displayed upside down, and the glass protector was high enough to keep her from reaching inside from the top. But when she tried, she found the protector was not fastened.  
"What are you doing?" a voice boomed behind her.  
Startled for a moment, she reported, "This piece was upside down. I wanted to correct it."  
The gentleman strode to the pedestal and reached with his long arm into the display. "Dr. Croft, you could have broken the glass and injured yourself."  
"I assume you are the curator, Willard Slaughter? This glass casing can easily be removed. How secure is this place?" Her eyes narrowed.  
"We will have guards posted in the hallways and a security camera," he snapped and pointed to the corner. "If there is anything else--."  
"I would like a guard in this room," she demanded and waited for the response from the tall, lanky man.  
"Dr. Croft, I don't have the men or funding to hire extra guards. Besides, the other exhibitors will want guards in their rooms, and I don't have them," he argued and stared down at her through his bifocals. "Now, is there anything else?"  
Her face turned red and her fists clenched. "Mr. Slaughter, I was promised a secured area for my collection if I came during this exposition. Now I am asking you to make good on that promise."  
"The Galleria has the guards and the camera I just showed you. Anything else above that you better speak to your sponsor, because I did not make those promises." He stepped forward. "Now you have books shipped to us that need to be displayed in the gift shop. I suggest you stop there and set it up." He stepped to exit the room.  
"Allow me to change the arrangement of a few pieces. I don't like their locations."  
Slaughter stopped and surveyed the room. "The pedestals stay where they are, but I'll send someone to assist you."  
After he left, Lara fumed. "Arrogant bastard!"  
Fifteen minutes later a young man came and helped rearrange the artifacts until she was satisfied. Later he escorted her to the gift shop and assembled the book display, while she stacked the books on a table. Still upset from the encounter with Slaughter, she rattled the table with every book placed.   
"Never have I been treated with such contempt! I have a good mind to pull out of this damn exhibition and go home!"  
As she crouched down to open the last box, a shadowed appeared over her left shoulder. She flinched and looked up.  
"Do you need any help, Dr. Croft?"  
"Mr. Wayne." Lara stood up and checked her anger. "Let me ask you straight up. Was it not your office that promised me a secured area for my collection if I allowed it to be displayed during your cultural exposition?"  
Bruce furrowed his brow. "Dr. Croft, what is the problem?"  
"I distinctly remembered a discussion with a representative of your office regarding a posted guard should I consider the present conditions inadequate. Apparently the curator of this museum was not privy to that information, and treated me with contempt when I requested it. I will not stand for his indignities, nor stay under false pretenses!" she railed.  
He looked away from Lara's glare, pulled a cell phone from his pocket, and dialed. "Bruce Wayne here. Who had the responsibility to follow up on the invitation of Lara Croft's collection to the Galleria?... I want to see him first thing Monday morning, my office... Yes..."  
Bruce stepped away from her but continued to speak. Lara folded her arms and turned her head to catch any words he said. He turned around and faced her.  
"-- a guard, starting tonight and until the following weekend... Burnham Agency will do fine. Have them contact the Galleria for clearance. Any questions have them call me... Very good." He pressed a button and said to her, "Just one moment." He was silent with the phone to his ear, and then spoke, "Willard, Bruce Wayne here. Had a discussion with Dr. Lara Croft and I am arranging a security guard from the Burnham Agency to be posted in her exhibit room during its stay. They will be calling for security clearance, so I wanted you to be aware of it. The Wayne Foundation will pick up the tab. Any questions, call me." He pressed a button and closed the phone. "Voicemail are so impersonal, don't you think?"  
"Actually, I enjoy the personal touch." She returned to stack the books.  
"Let me apologize for any discomfort, Dr. Croft. That is not--."  
"Please, Mr. Wayne," she interrupted. "I appreciate what you have done, but don't apologize for someone's short-sightedness or actions. It's very gallant of you, but not appropriate at the moment."  
A couple of books fall off the table.  
He bent down and picked them up. "Let me purchase these books."  
She smirked. "I am not a charity case, Mr. Wayne."  
"Bruce," he responded.  
"I beg your pardon?"  
"My name is Bruce. And I am purchasing them as an investment, if you will also sign them for me." He smiled and handed her the books.  
Lara paused and stared at him. Then she shook her head and sighed. "Oh, alright."  
She took his pen and wrote:  
  
To Bruce Wayne,  
Thank you for all that you have done.  
Sincerely,  
Lara Croft  
  
He closed the books and asked, "Would you like a cup of tea, Dr. Croft?"  
"Please, call me Lara."  
"Well, Lara, it would make me happy if you could join me for lunch and a cup of tea... and I will not take 'no' for an answer."  
"You certainly are the charmer, Mr. Wayne," she replied.  
"Please, call me Bruce," he teased.  
They walked together towards the cafeteria.  
  
***  
  
Steven settled in behind his desk and opened a large manual. After reading some pages, he moved his chair behind a keyboard in front of a bank of monitors and typed a few lines of code. The drone of the computers' fans and the clicking of the keys were the only noises that filled the room. He stretched back in his chair and yawned. A blinking light on a corner desk caught his attention. 'Someone is using the phone,' he thought. 'If they are on the network, then I have to wait until they are done and backup their work before I can continue. Got to see who it is.'  
The four offices at Gregor Shipping Company were branched off a large room full of cubicles. From the receptionist area, a short hallway led to the large room.   
Steven left the server room, walked the hallway to the receptionist area and into the large room. He peered over the cubicles, but heard a heated argument from an office. Another office door opened, and he ducked behind a cubicle.   
A tall gentleman exited the office and entered the room where the argument occurred.   
Steven tiptoed closer and hid inside the cubicle outside the office. He leaned against the cubicle wall and listened.  
"I've been informed by my associate the hardware is secured, General. We are just waiting for payment." Steven heard the voice of Elias Gregor.  
"We've run into a problem," a deep accented voice replied.  
"So I have seen all over the news! Having problems with the local authorities?"  
"My men said a masked man disrupted the exchange. They barely escaped with their hides," the voice argued.  
"The sum result is... there is no cash," Gregor hissed.  
Steven poked his head above the cubicle to see Gregor's crossed legs resting on a table. Beyond the legs sat Gregor's laptop. On the screen was a dark-skinned man dressed in a military uniform. Only his head and chest were viewable. On top of the laptop was a mini-cam.  
"Gregor, I need that equipment now!" the man pounded his table. "The monarch has fallen ill! The country is in chaos! It is an opportune time for me to strike! Release half of the munitions and I will give you an extra ten percent directly!" he fumed and his eyes bulged.  
"I'm afraid you don't understand," Gregor said and looked at his fingernails. "This is a cash and carry business. No cash, and you don't carry."  
"Fifteen percent!"  
"General, no can do. My supplier will not hold credit for this transaction." He scratched his chin.  
"Twenty percent!" the man almost jumped out of the screen.  
"Sorry, General. No cash, no deal."  
"Gregor, help me! Please! That cocaine was to finance everything! Everything!" the man raised his fists and shook them.  
Gregor tilted his head, stared at the ceiling, and tapped a finger on his nose.  
A couple of seconds passed in silence.  
"General, send your men. There is something going on in town that may be your answer. But we will have to talk tomorrow. Have to go before we are traced." He clicked a key to turn off the screen and said, "Voldo, take down the dish and put it aside. I've got a very important appointment I want to keep."  
Steven cowered in the corner of the cubicle and waited. He heard footsteps leave, and the entrance door closed. Fifteen minutes passed before he got the nerve to move out of the cubicle. He hurried to the server room and dialed a phone number.  
A recording came on. "We're sorry, but the cellular phone customer has either gone beyond our service area or has turned off their phone. Please try again later."  
He dialed another number and spoke in a low voice, "Lara Croft's room, please." He waited. "Damn, a message system." He paused, and then said, "Lara, this is Steven. I need to talk with you. I believe Elias Gregor is involved in something but I can't speak right now. It's important that you call me." He left a phone number and hung up. Then he gathered his backpack and left the building.  
  
***  
  
Lara and Bruce walked back to the exhibit rooms after their meal. He peppered their conversation with many questions regarding her travels and adventures. She was pleasantly surprised he had an interest in her escapades. She smiled, listened, and enthusiastically answered his questions.  
She stopped and faced him. "May I ask a personal question? Have you traveled beyond this city?"  
"Why, yes. I've been to London, Paris, Madrid, Berlin, Tokyo, Hong Kong--."  
"No, no. That's not what I meant. Not a business trip" She paused. "I mean an expedition where you are off the beaten path, watching nature in all its glory. To view a sunrise in the Serengeti, where the crimson colors dance along the horizon, and the heat ripples off the land. Or walk in the dense foliage of the Amazon jungles, where ground level is in total darkness in the middle of the day and the humidity is so high it drips from every leaf. Or marvel at ancient temples in the Himalayas during winter, when they are covered with snow. Everything becomes silent and pure, and a shiver runs down your spine believing it has become a holy place. Have you ever had an adventure like that?"  
"No, I can't say that I have."  
"And why not?"  
He stammered, "Well... I just... I'm..." He placed his hands in his pockets, tilted his head down, and looked into her eyes. "I guess I'm not as fortunate as you are to travel to such exotic places."  
A picture flashed in her mind, and she thought, 'The picture of the boy looking over the bodies had the same sad eyes.' "Well, maybe on my next expedition you could join me for an adventure, if your schedule allows it," Lara quipped.  
He smiled and nodded, "Sure."  
"Dr. Croft, you're right on time!" Elias Gregor approached and placed his hand on her shoulder. "Hello, Bruce."  
"Elias, how are things going?"  
They shook hands.  
"Unbelievable, Bruce. Just unbelievable."  
A cell phone rang. They all checked their phones.  
"It's mine," Bruce said.  
"Oh, I didn't even have mine on." Lara pressed a button.  
"Have you had a good morning so far?" Gregor asked cheerfully.  
"Let's say it was interesting," she answered.  
"Excuse me, Lara, but I have to attend to something that just came up." Bruce closed his cell phone and walked away.  
"Is everything alright?" she asked, but Bruce didn't respond. She watched him jog to the door. Her shoulders dropped as he disappeared. She took a deep breath and brushed back the loose strands of her hair.  
Gregor glanced at the door. "So what do you think of Gotham City's most eligible bachelor, Lara? May I call you Lara?"  
"Yes, you may." She paused. "Bruce is very intelligent... and he seems to be very reserved."  
"Reserved?" His eyes opened wide. "The man has no backbone! He's afraid to take risks! Don't get me wrong. I think he is a very charitable and decent guy, but he's conservative in business management and in the handling of his company, if at all. You do realize he has a playboy mentality."  
She crossed her arms and tightened her jaw. "You are very frank with your opinions. What makes you think his intentions are not honorable?"   
"Come on," he chuckled. "A beautiful and voluptuous woman like you is every man's desire. Given a chance, they would love to know you in a personal way. Now, take an attractive man who has the money and means to make you comfortable and... what do you think?"  
"I don't need his money," she snapped and stared at the door.  
Gregor paused. "I'm sorry. I must have stepped on a tender spot." He placed his hand on her shoulder. "Let me show you something." He took her by the arm and directed her to his exhibit room.  
"I already took the liberty of examining your impressive art collection," she said.  
"Let me tell you this story. I started in real estate years ago, and worked my way up as a broker. I developed properties, did stock investments, bought and sold land, but it still wasn't exciting enough. Then, out of the blue, came a break when I discovered a company was dissolving all its holdings. Going completely under. At that moment I didn't have enough capital to cover the purchase. It was a risky venture, but the return on investment was so great I couldn't pass it up.   
"So, I boldly approached Bruce Wayne and laid all my cards on the table. Demonstrated he could triple or quadruple his investment. Even showed he could take one of the holdings and place it under his research division, and still come out ahead.  
"He didn't want any part of it! He didn't want to take the risk!  
"Well, I left his office and went straight to the bank. I borrowed money by using second mortgages on properties I owned, and cashed in stocks. From then on I begged, borrowed, or stole from a lot of sources to get the money. I placed a bid for a fraction of the company's entire net worth... and I got it! I was ecstatic!  
"After that I took each of the company's branches, and holdings, and disassembled them! Picked them clean... and sold them off individually! My return on investment was one hundred fold! It was adventurous! It was risky! It was exciting!  
"Naturally, I rewarded myself with all sorts of trinkets. One of them is this painting by Miro. Acquiring it marked a new beginning for me!   
"Just like you, my life is now filled with high adventure! We're two of a kind, Lara!"  
She stuttered, "I... I don't know about that."  
"Yes, we are! We may go about it in a different way, but we want excitement in our lives! To live on the edge and never look back!"  
His jubilant nature had her giggling.  
He smiled, "Let me tell you the real reason I wanted to meet you, Lara." He cleared his throat and gazed into her eyes. "I want you to work for me."  
"Excuse me?" she exclaimed.  
"What do I have to do to make that happen?"  
"Mr. Gregor, I have no need for money. My explorations are done mostly for sport. The income I receive is derived from books, articles, and lectures. But even if that stops, I have enough to last me the rest of my life. What else could you offer?"  
"Listen, Lara, my business allows me to broker a lot of deals. I connect those who are in need with those who have and are willing to supply. And with you as a supplier for extraordinary artifacts, I could definitely find the people in need. So, I don't care if I have to initially contract out your services, or work it on a per-need-basis. The bottom line is... I want you to work exclusively for me."  
"The majority of my explorations is field work for research. I am on the roster of the British Museum as a contributor, and they have funded handsomely for my expeditions, up to this point. So I don't see anything more you could offer."  
He debated, "I've done my homework. I know you are bumping heads with the curator and his cronies at the museum. They consider what you do adventurism and not archaeology... And some circles have named you the 'Tomb Raider'."  
"I've produced results and sound research!" she bristled.  
"And ruffled some diplomatic feathers. Your adventures have strained foreign relations for your country with others, like China for example. British politicians have to work overtime to settle any disputes. Pretty soon the British Museum will consider you a liability."  
She frowned, "I have connections from my alma mater where I earned my doctorate's degree. There are also a number of American museums that would love to have me as a contributor. So I am not lacking of any alternative solutions."  
"Like this, the Galleria?" Gregor smirked. "I'm sure you would love to work with an asshole like Willard Slaughter. But why take that chance? If it's dignity and honor you want, I'll get it for you! Your own museum, your own science labs, your own... Lara Croft-land! Whatever it takes, I'll give you the world! Just say 'yes' to my offer!"  
Lara thought for a moment, and then raised her hands, "Please don't take this the wrong way. I don't mind working for you if it is for research or sport, but not for profit. Plus, I cherish my freedom, even with its present difficulties. So I suppose I will pass on your offer for full employment."  
"Don't say 'no' just yet," he begged. "Think about it, okay? This is a great opportunity to let pass by so quickly. I just want you to think about it."  
"There isn't much to think about. Now if you will excuse me, I must return to the book display." She turned and walked away.  
"I'll see you here tonight at the formal opening," he shouted.  
Elias Gregor watched Lara's movements, and grinned like the devil.  
  
***  
  
"As soon as I came down and saw the flashing light, I called you."  
"When did the computer record the signal?" Bruce walked over to the console area.  
"Half-hour before I contacted you," Alfred stressed.  
Bruce clicked a few keys and watched the monitors. One had a street map of Gotham City, another displayed a satellite view of the coastline and ocean, and a third showed a cartoon commercial for a children's cereal. He pushed a cheek with a forefinger and rested his chin on his thumb.  
"Find anything interesting?"  
"The signal is not scrambled, but masked or woven within this commercial. There is a digital signal on a different wavelength. Unfortunately the computer can't unlock it." Bruce stared at the commercial.  
"Maybe the research department at Wayne Enterprises can assist you."  
"Don't have the time for that, Alfred. Let's see if the computer has narrowed the site location where the signal was generated and received." He clicked a few more keys and watched the monitors zoom in.  
"From these coordinates on the satellite view, it appears to be in the middle of the ocean," Alfred reported. He looked over to a fourth monitor. "And they are not the same coordinates as last time."  
"Must be a vessel of some sort." Bruce looked at the street map. "Fortunately it has narrowed down to this block of buildings. I'll print out a list of present tenants." He clicked a few keys and walked to the printer. "Twenty businesses in these buildings. Most of the tenants are doctors' offices or consultants." He examined the rest of the page. "Six of them have possibilities. I'll investigate further after tonight's event."  
"What do you hope to find?"  
"Don't know yet." He paused. "Is my tuxedo ready?"  
  
***  
  
Lara ate at the hotel's restaurant before returning to her suite. She walked across to the living room balcony and viewed the overburdened skyline of Gotham City. The fumes from city traffic and nearby industry seeped into her nostrils. She held a tissue to her nose and looked at the imposing skyscrapers.  
"Frightening," she whispered.  
When she stepped into the bedroom the flashing light on the phone caught her eye. After a quick reading of the phone booklet, she retrieved the message. Her eyes opened wider after listening to the message a second time. Immediately she dialed the number but an answering machine responded.   
"Steven, call me on the cell phone as soon as you get this message!" Her mind raced for possible reasons why he sounded so urgent. She frowned and walked to the bathroom. "That message was very unsettling. I hope he is not in trouble."  
  
***  
  
Security was in full force as the Galleria was illuminated like a rare gem. Searchlights waved their beams into the sky and floodlights washed the banners with vibrant colors. The police positioned wooden barricades to keep the crowds from the entrance and the traffic away from the arriving limousines. Reporters were allowed closer access to the honored guests, and photographers scrambled for the best shot.  
Lara's silver limousine arrived. She was dressed in a dark blue gown that hung on her shoulders with spaghetti straps, and had two side cuts from the hem to knees. The front v-neck plunged deep enough to tantalize the males in the crowd. Over this sleeveless gown, she wore the same black jacket and high heels, and carried a black handbag. After stepping out of the limousine, she smiled briefly, nodded to the people, and strode through the gauntlet of photographers. When she looked beyond the flashing lights, her composure stiffened and her smile disappeared.  
Behind the nearest barricade a group shouted and held signs that read, 'CROFT IS A GHOUL', 'TOMB RAIDER = GRAVE ROBBER', and 'LARA CROFT GO HOME'. Most of the sign holders looked Asian.  
She turned towards the entrance, but a female reporter carrying a microphone confronted her while other reporters with tape recorders trailed behind.  
"Lara Croft, we understand that your appearance at the Premier Opening of the Galleria during Gotham City's Cultural Exposition is due to the sponsorship of the Wayne Foundation. Have you met the founder, Bruce Wayne, and what were your reactions?" the reporter quizzed and moved the microphone to Lara's chin.   
Lara stepped back and said, "Ah, he seems very nice." She glanced at the Asian group yelling at her.  
"I understand you were in China some time ago. What was your purpose there?" the reporter probed.  
"No comment." Lara tried to step around.  
The reporter intercepted her steps. "Were you responsible for the destruction of the Great Wall?"  
"No!" Lara shouted. She moved around the reporter. "No comment!"  
A male reporter stepped in front with a tape recorder. "Dr. Croft, I understand you're here to declare you want a love child with Bruce Wayne. How did he react to that?"  
She turned red and yelled, "That's ridiculous!" Her arm struck out to push him aside.  
Someone grabbed her arm and pulled.  
A young man had broken through the barricades and ripped her sleeve. He screamed, "You desecrate our sacred tombs! You desecrate our sacred tombs!"  
Before he could spit at her, a policeman seized the young man by the face, whirled him around, and forced him to the ground. Two other officers jumped on the young man's back and handcuffed him.  
Astonished, Lara looked at the torn sleeve and then at her assailant. She gritted her teeth and stepped to give the young man a swift kick.  
A white hair gentleman blocked her path. "Let's get you inside where it is nice and safe."   
Another officer assisted the gentleman in escorting her towards the door.  
They were almost at the entrance when a nearby male reporter shouted, "So how many people did you have to sleep with to get your doctor's degree, Doctor Croft?"  
Enraged, Lara turned and cracked a left hook on the reporter's chin.   
The reporter fell into others, and they all collapsed on the ground like a short stack of dominos. The large clatter, the mass confusion, and the constant flashing of cameras caused two more police officers to separate Lara from the reporters. They hurried her inside while the reporters yelled, "Freedom of the press, Commissioner Gordon! You better frisk her! She's known to carry weapons!"  
Inside the Galleria the white hair gentleman pointed at a doorway to a vacant auditorium.   
She stormed inside.   
He turned to the officers. "You two go back outside and move the reporters away from the entrance. And you, stay here by this door and don't let anyone in the auditorium."  
Lara kicked the high heels off and flung them towards the stage. She paced up and down the aisle muttering expletives. The sleeve hung on the jacket with a few threads. After examining it, she clenched a fist in front of her face and closed her eyes.  
The gentleman spoke, "Take your time to settle down."  
She paced for a couple minutes more, then sat in a chair in the front row.   
"Miss, are you alright now?" He strolled towards her.  
She glanced at him and nodded.  
"Although that jerk may have deserved it, miss, I don't think that was a wise thing to do in front of all those cameras. He may want to sue."  
"Let him get in line," she barked.  
The gentleman knelt next to her. "Now I don't want you to get flustered, but I have to ask you something."  
She turned to him and listened.  
"May I look inside your bag?" Without waiting for an answer, he took the handbag and opened it.  
Lara frowned. "Are you going to frisk me, detective?"  
"Commissioner James Gordon, miss." His white mustache covered the tight frown on his lips.   
He dumped out the contents of the handbag: nametag, cell phone, lipstick, mascara, compact, room key, tissues, credit cards, and assorted tickets.  
"I know you are a famous celebrity," he whispered as his fingers found a hidden zipper. "But I can't allow you to carry this around while you're angry." He looked over his shoulder and pulled out the 9mm handgun.  
"I do have a license for that." Her face was flushed.  
"I understand that, but our city ordinances do not allow individuals to carry firearms unless they are court appointed officers of the law, regardless whether you live in the city or not." He looked over his shoulder again. "Now, you seem to be a smart young lady, otherwise you would not have become a doctor. So... due to the circumstances, we will not make a big deal over this. But let me suggest you control that temper of yours, or else it will get you in trouble." He slipped the gun back into the handbag.   
A commotion occurred outside the doorway. Gordon stood and looked at the officer.  
"Commissioner, that reporter wants to press charges against Miss Croft."  
Gordon dropped his head and glanced at Lara. "Sergeant, get a black and white at the service door." He turned to her. "Guess we'll have to take you down to the station."  
The cell phone rang.  
"Lara, I got your message."  
"Steven! Where are you?"  
"I'm at a payphone. I need to talk with you."  
"Umm... I'm going to be busy--." She eyed Gordon.   
He raised two fingers.   
"-- for about a couple of hours. Meet me in the lobby or lounge area of the hotel. I'll try to be quick."  
She closed the phone, looked up at Gordon and asked, "May I make one more phone call?"  
He nodded, and she pressed the numbers.  
"Wayne Manor."  
"Alfred, may I speak with Bruce?"  
"I am sorry, but Mr. Wayne has left to attend the Galleria's Grand Opening. Is there something I could assist you with?"  
"No... just tell him I may not be here when he arrives. I have some business to attend to." She retrieved her high heels and slipped them on.  
"Very well, Miss Lara. I do hope you have an enjoyable evening. Good night."  
"Good night, Alfred," she sighed.  
Gordon asked, "Ready, miss?"  
Lara took off her jacket and touched the torn sleeve. "Is it possible to walk by my exhibit room, just for a look?" she inquired.  
He tilted his head and thought. "Why not. I could use some culture anyway." He extended a bent elbow.   
She put her hand inside of his elbow, and they walked out of the auditorium.  
  
***  
  
Part Three  
  
Steven lifted his watch. It was 11:30pm, and Lara was two hours overdue. A baseball game on a monitor behind the bar occupied his time in the lounge area. He drank the final gulps of beer, and placed the bottle next to two others. The burly bartender changed the station to the local news under mild protests from a group of men.  
A gentle touch on his shoulder made Steven turn around.  
"Sorry I am late. I was detained longer than expected." Lara hugged him.  
A voice rose above the noise, "Hey, lady, isn't that you on the TV?"  
She turned to see who spoke but the bartender got her attention by pointing to the monitor.  
On the screen was an elegant and lovely Lara Croft, smiling and posing for the cameras. The next scene was a man clinging and pulling on her sleeve. Scenes of confusion followed as the cameraman jiggled around for a better shot of policemen and the young man on the ground. Then he brought the camera up to show reporters falling down.  
A voice shouted, "Hey, Mike, turn up the volume."  
"-- a fan, with a camcorder, videotaped these scenes of Dr. Croft assaulting one of the reporters--."  
"WHOA!" exclaimed the small group of men.  
One of them said, "Nice hook, lady!"  
The bartender nodded and watched the screen.  
"What happened there?" Steven asked.  
"-- formal charges for assault will be pressed against Dr. Croft on Monday. The reporter was taken to the hospital for x-rays. Meanwhile, unhampered by the incident, the festivities continued as other honored guests arrived."  
The screen showed Bruce Wayne accompanied by a beautiful blonde in a white gown.  
Lara glanced around and pulled on Steven's sleeve. "Let's go to the room to talk."  
  
***  
  
In the room she opened her laptop and scanned the e-mail again. The attachments regarding Gregor, Inc. were highlighted. As she read them her eyes grew wide.  
"I think Elias Gregor has made some deal with a foreign general, which involves overtaking a monarchy," Steven said and watched her.  
"Do you have any proof of this?" she asked but continued to read.  
"Only what I heard and saw. They were video-conferencing through Mr. Gregor's laptop."  
She looked at him, "Did you recognize the general?"  
"No, I don't know the man." Steven punched his leg. "That information was important, huh?"  
Lara pouted and walked into the bedroom. "The proof is somewhere on Elias Gregor's laptop. We will need to examine it. Do you know exactly what was said?"  
"They were talking about hardware. The general sounded anxious to get it."  
"Is anyone there tonight?"  
"I don't think so. Why? Do you want to go there now?" He peered around the bedroom door.  
She had on a long-sleeve black body suit and was wiggling into her tan shorts. Her hair was held back into a ponytail by a dark scrungy. She noticed his head in the doorway while reaching for her fingerless gloves on the bed. "Let me lace up my boots and we'll be on our way."  
  
***  
  
The three story building, where the location of the offices of Gregor Shipping Company, was in a commercial park area, a block away from an inlet that led to the harbor. A refurbished complex of brick buildings nestled among warehouses not far from the docks.  
As soon as the taxi drove away, Lara opened her knapsack and pulled out a leather gunbelt.  
"Do you think we will need those?" Steven's tone was fearful.  
"Have to expect the unexpected," she replied and fastened the belt.  
They approached the building, and Steven unlocked the main door.  
"It's on the third floor," he said.  
Lara headed for the stairs while he locked the door. She stopped at the third floor and noted the stairs continued up to the rooftop. Through an adjacent window she saw the waving of searchlights in the distant sky. She heard Steven fumbling with the keys and waited.  
"Give me a couple of seconds to get the right keys for the locks."  
Lara nodded and looked out the window. Immediately she pressed against the glass, cupped her hands around her eyes, and stared. She bolted through the open office door while Steven removed the keys from the locks.   
"Someone's on the roof of the next building!"  
"How can you tell?" he asked in disbelief.  
"Don't turn on the lights." She took a flashlight from her knapsack. "Where are the office rooms?"  
Steven led her to Gregor's office. He looked about the room. "Damn! His laptop is not here."  
Lara peeked through the blinds. "It looked like a shadow of a gargoyle perched on the corner of the roof. But then it moved."  
"Who could it be?" He looked over her shoulder.  
She gave him the flashlight. "Look through some of those files and try to find anything you can. Meanwhile, I'm going on the roof to be sure there is no threat."  
Steven thumbed through the folders on the desk.  
Lara headed for the stairs. At the top of the stairs a collapsible satellite dish leaned next to the door to the roof. A slight push against the door forced a small crack to open. Pausing for a deep breath, and to allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness, she stepped lightly onto the roof with guns drawn up. The tar crunched under her feet as she stalked around various skylights and air-conditioning units. Crouching and creeping to the edge, she looked at the building across the way and surveyed the roof for shadows.   
"Some night vision goggles would be helpful," she whispered. Motionless, she stared into the darkness.   
Cold breezes from the harbor blew over the rooftops and created a shiver down her arms.   
The tar crunched behind her.  
She twirled about and aimed her guns in the direction of the sound. Her eyes saw nothing. Carefully she stepped back, crouched, and scanned the rooftop area.  
A shadow moved around a cooling tower.  
Lara angled to the side for a better view and leveled the guns at the tower's edge. In a slow pan she concentrated on every corner beside the tower, but found nothing. The skin on the back of her neck raised in goosebumps. She brought the guns up and listened.   
Faint crunches came from the far side of the roof.  
She tiptoed to the tower and backed up against it. Looking side to side she inched to the edge and peered around the corner. Her heart pumped adrenaline in anticipation. She gazed into the shadows, but they were empty. With quiet steps she worked her way to a skylight and stretched her neck above it.   
Another cold breeze created goosebumps down her legs.   
A movement made her turn to the side, and a large shadow of a bat's wing disappeared.  
She froze and her heart leapt to her throat. With a couple deep breaths she scurried to a corner of another tower and knelt.   
Crunches of the tar were heard a few feet from the corner.   
Lara took another deep breath, stepped around the corner, and aimed at a dark figure.  
"Hold it right there, Mister!"  
"Don't shoot! It's me! Steven!"  
She brought her guns up. "What are you doing up here?"  
"I found a folder that looked interesting. It's a leasing of a freighter, but there is nothing here that says what is to be loaded or unloaded." He waved the papers.  
Lara looked around and up into the cold air. "Come on, Steven. Let's get out of here."  
They hurried down the stairs and exited. As they ran down the block, Lara looked back at the building.   
On the rooftop corner stood a dark figure. It watched them, then backed away and disappeared.  
"Friend or foe, I'll find out what you are."  
She caught up to Steven, and they waved down a taxi.  
  
***  
  
Lara stepped out of the Jacuzzi and walked into the bedroom while wiping the excess water off her body with a towel.  
Someone knocked on the door.  
The terry robe was donned, the towel wrapped around her hair, and the door opened.  
"Did you sleep well last night?" asked Steven.  
"Quite well," she replied. "And yourself?"  
"I'm a little nervous, and a bit tired," he yawned. "Did you find anything in the folder?"  
"Other than the name of the freighter, The Kraken. Nothing else. We should try to locate where it is docked."  
Someone knocked.  
She asked in a loud voice, "Who is it?"  
"Elias Gregor, Lara. May I come in?"  
"Just a moment."   
She looked at Steven, put a finger to her lips, and pointed at the bedroom. He went inside and closed the bedroom door.  
Lara greeted Gregor. "Yes?"   
He stepped back and eyed her from head to toe. "You look fabulous."  
She sighed. "What is it, Mr. Gregor?"  
"I heard what happened last night at the Galleria. Is there anything I can do for you?"  
"Not really. I have to stay within the city limits until this all blows over... but if you could make this go away--." Her face turned red after realizing what she said.  
He walked past her. "Consider it done."   
"That was just a joke! I hope you weren't taking me seriously!" She felt ill at ease.  
"Why not? I will do this for you to show how serious I am of wanting you to work exclusively for me."  
"I implore you, don't do anything. I can handle my own problems."  
"What's it worth to you?"  
"What?"  
"Let's make a deal! What will you do for me if I don't handle your reporter problem?" he sneered.  
Her arms waved in front. "No deal! There is no deal here!"  
"Lara, I can show you the benefits in working for me by doing this!" He pointed his finger. "You would be completely protected and taken care of. I would have gotten you the penthouse suite, the best this hotel has to offer! And incidents like last night would never, never happen to you! I'm serious!"  
"I don't need anything from you. Do you understand? I can handle my own problems. Now please leave." Her tone was harsh.  
A thump came from behind the bedroom door.  
Gregor glanced at the door and raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know you were entertaining someone. Excuse me for interrupting." He stepped to exit. "This is not over yet, Lara. Eventually you will see it my way."  
After he left, she went into the bedroom.  
"I'm sorry. I bumped into the bed. Did I ruin anything?" Steven rubbed his knee.  
"Actually, what you did was very helpful. Let me get ready and we will have lunch."  
  
***  
  
"How was your evening, Master Bruce?" A plate of food and bowl of fruit were placed on the table.  
"Almost had a confrontation with Lara Croft and her friend." He picked at the food.  
"Really? And what were they doing there?" Alfred brought a glass of juice.  
"Apparently the same thing I was doing, but they seem to have found something," Bruce said between the chewing of the food.  
"What would that be?" Alfred stood at the corner of the table with hands behind his back.  
"Don't know yet. After they left, I looked in the stairwell of the building and found a satellite dish."  
"Then the next step is to find out who owns the dish."  
"The building's tenants are a couple of technology consultants, an accountants office, and... Gregor Shipping Company." Bruce raised his eyebrows. "I need to know what they retrieved from their offices."  
"How do you intend to do that?"  
"I may have to visit her tonight and ask." He drank the juice.  
"You may want to do something more than that." Alfred opened a newspaper and placed it on the table. "Our lovely Dr. Croft received some bad press today. The article indicates she will be charged with assault."  
Bruce grabbed the paper and read.  
"Alfred, hand me the phone."  
  
***  
  
Lara outpaced reporters to the elevators and leapt into the first open door. As she frantically pressed the button to close the door, two reporters stepped in the door's path. Before they could crowd her with questions, security guards yanked their collars and allowed the door to close. She let out a slow breath of relief.  
During lunch, Steven mentioned he would bring back the folder and return later. Afterwards they would search for The Kraken, but the reporters interrupted their conversation and luncheon.  
As she strolled to the room, her cell phone rang.  
"Lara, its Bruce. I just read what happened last night. Is there anything I can do for you?"  
She paused and thought. "No, I can handle my own problems." She opened the door to the room.  
"The police kept the reporters away from the entrance after the incident, so I didn't learn about it until today. I feel responsible to what happened to you--."  
"Please, Bruce, I don't need your protection." She closed her eyes and rubbed the back of her neck.  
There was a moment of silence.  
"Well, if you need anything, like a hideaway from the hounding reporters, please don't hesitate to call."  
"Right. Thank you, Bruce."   
The cell phone was closed and tossed on the couch. After entering the bedroom, her shoes were whipped off. She laid on the bed, glanced at the ceiling and around the room, and cuddled close to a pillow. Her eyes rested for a moment, but she eventually settled for a nap.  
  
***  
  
At the offices of Gregor Shipping Company, Steven heard the slam of the roof door. He hurried through the unlocked door, entered Gregor's office, and placed the folder on the desk.  
The laptop was on the desk.  
Without hesitation, the network wire was connected to the LAN card and the laptop switched on. The network password was bypassed and the contents of the hard drive viewed. The command to copy to the local server was selected. Seconds passed, and a dialog box appeared with a thermometer bar. It slowly changed colors as it traveled from 0% to 100%.   
Steven leapt to the office door and listened. A distant thump told him whoever was on the roof was coming back.   
The laptop beeped and completed the task.   
He turned off the laptop, dashed out of the office, and crept into a cubicle.  
Gregor's voice was heard. "Let's call the ship and make sure those men have arrived before I contact the General."   
A door closed.  
Steven tiptoed around the cubicles and jogged to the server room. A tape cartridge was grabbed from a desk drawer and jammed into the server's tape drive. The command to copy was clicked and the tape drive whizzed, while he watched the blinking light on the telephone.  
"Come on, come on! Hurry up!" He tapped a finger on the screen.  
The light on the phone went off.  
Steven moved to the server door and listened.   
An office door opened and Gregor mumbled some directives to his assistant.  
The tape drive finished and beeped.  
Gregor shouted, "Voldo, check the rooms! Somebody else is here!"  
The tape cartridge was stuffed in the backpack and Steven ran for the door. At the stairs he jumped from landing to landing and raced out of the main door. While sprinting down the block, he looked behind.  
Voldo was half a block away and screwed a silencer to his gun. With his long legs and slender body he looked more like a sprinter then an assistant.  
Steven dodged around a corner before a bullet nicked a brick. As he scrambled down the street his head whipped left and right in search for a taxi. He dashed down another street when Voldo appeared at the corner.   
Half a block away a bus crossed the street.   
He ran up to the corner and chased after the bus. Fortunately the bus had stopped to let out a passenger. He leapt into the bus and hid behind a seat.   
The bus closed its doors and moved into the street.   
He peeked over the seat and out the window.  
Voldo stood at the corner and stuffed the gun inside his jacket.  
"Hey mister!"  
Steven whirled and looked at the driver.  
"Ya gotta pay the fare."  
Nervously two bills were fumbled from his pockets.  
"Sit down and relax, mister. I'm headin' for the terminal for the shift change. The new driver will continue the route. Okay?"  
Steven staggered to a seat and clutched his backpack.  
  
***  
  
The cell phone rang.  
Lara pawed and patted the bed in search for it, and then remembered it was in the other room. She jumped to the living room and grabbed the phone from the couch.  
"Hello?"  
No one answered.  
She closed the phone and checked the time. It was later than she thought and didn't realize what a long nap she took.  
"What happened to Steven?" she wondered aloud.  
The glass door to the living room balcony was slid open, and she gazed down.   
Although the sun was about to set, the city appeared to have succumbed to its own shadows. Street lamps and car lights dotted the avenue below. The sound of truck engines and car horns bounced off the buildings and echoed down the caverns of the city.   
Floodlights illuminated the hotel courtyard. She spotted other rooms and balconies, and surveyed the scenery.   
The glass door to her bedroom balcony was open.  
She stepped back into the living room, walked into the bedroom, and approached the glass door. "That's odd. When did I open the bedroom balcony door?"   
Her eye caught a shadowy figure standing in an obscured corner. She jumped back and grabbed her gunbelt.   
The guns were gone.  
"Your weapons are on the nightstand."  
Lara looked up at the figure.   
Concealed in the dark corner was a man. His form covered by a long cloak, and face hidden behind a mask with elongated ears. On the nightstand near him were her guns and clips.  
"Who... are you?" she asked while contemplating her next move.  
"You were at Gregor Shipping Company last night. What did you find there?" His tone was low and business-like.  
"Why do you want to know? What business of it is yours?"   
A moment of silence passed.  
"Unless you're doing an investigation!" she concluded. "You were on the roof last night. Why were you hiding?"  
"Why were you carrying guns?" he replied.  
"Who are you?"  
He took a deep breath. "Why were you at Gregor Shipping?"  
"I was helping a friend." She crossed her arms.  
"And getting information," he stated. "Who's your friend?"  
"Look, I am not very comfortable in answering any questions without knowing who you are."  
He walked slowly towards her.   
Lara backpedaled until she bumped against the wall.  
"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm asking for information. What do you know about Elias Gregor?"  
She noticed the distance between them. He was close enough to hear, but far beyond a well placed kick.  
"I know he had purchased Natla Technologies and sold off its divisions for a profit. That's how he made his fortune. Other than that, he is an acquaintance I met at the Galleria."  
"I overheard your friend found information about a freighter. What's the name of the ship?"  
She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip. "It's called The Kraken. My friend and I were going to see where it was docked."  
"I know where it's docked." He came closer.  
She looked at the bedroom doorway and sidestepped in that direction.  
He raised his hands. "Please, don't move. I have one more question." An emblem of a bat was exposed on his chest.  
Her eyes became large. "You're the vigilante, The Batman of Gotham City!"  
He paused, and then said, "I saw the communication dish in the stairwell. Who was Gregor talking to?"  
"Steven said...," she shook her head and sighed. "He said Gregor spoke with a foreign general but he didn't recognize who it was."  
"Did he know what it was about?"  
She locked her eyes onto his. "No, he didn't." Her eyes narrowed and stared.  
He backtracked into the shadows. "Where is your friend now?"  
Lara stepped forward. "I don't know. He should have been here a while ago. He said he was going to Gregor Shipping to return some files."  
The cell phone rang.  
"That may be him now," he said.  
"Don't leave. I have some questions to ask you." With hands raised, she stepped through the doorway. She grabbed the phone from the couch.  
"Hello?"  
No one answered.  
When she returned, the bedroom was empty. She walked to the balcony and tapped the phone on her chin. "Obviously, you work alone."  
  
***  
  
In front of the desk in Commissioner Gordon's office, Lara shifted in the seat. For an hour and a half she waited and did not know if charged with assault or not. She read a magazine to pass the time.  
Gordon entered the office, walked to his desk, and sat down. "The editor said the reporter, Nathaniel Gray, left an hour ago to come here. He mentioned in exchange for the charges, they would take an exclusive story on your adventure in China. Something about an explosion at the Great Wall." He smiled, "Did you do that, Dr. Croft?"   
She chuckled, "No comment, Commissioner."  
"I see there are secrets to be kept." He leaned forward. "You could tell me, I can keep a secret."  
"Before I answer, may I ask you this. Is there really a Batman in Gotham City?" she grinned.  
Gordon's smile faded. "Very good, Dr. Croft. You know I can't comment on that."  
"I'm not a reporter," she stated.  
He stroked his chin. "You didn't hear this from me, and don't repeat this to anyone. Before he arrived, crime in this city was escalating out of control. But now we have another weapon to fight the criminal element. And it's making a difference." He stamped his index finger on the desk.  
"Do you know who he is?"  
"Don't have any idea."  
She leaned forward. "Do you know in England a 'batman' is a servant for an officer in the British military?"  
Gordon suppressed a smile.  
An officer entered. "Excuse me, sir. The reporter is here. He wants to speak with you."  
"Send him in."  
Lara straightened up while Gordon walked to the door.  
The reporter marched into the room with a dark blotch visible under his scruffy beard. He raised his hands. "I just want to say one thing! I'm dropping the charges!"  
Gordon glanced at Lara. Halfway standing from the chair, she stared at the reporter. Her brow was furrowed and mouth opened as if words wanted to come out.  
Gordon inquired, "Why the change in heart, Mr. Gray? Wouldn't your editor be upset over this? He expected you to be here to get a story about Dr. Croft's China trip."  
"Hey, I don't work for that rag anymore." Gray smirked, "I got myself a better deal."  
"And what would that be, Mr. Gray?" Lara asked, a puzzled look on her face.  
"I was offered a lucrative position in a progressive company, which was very hard not to accept. Actually the offer was from a mutual acquaintance," he winked at her.  
"Who approached you?" she demanded.  
"Sorry, can't tell. One of the prerequisites, but, let me say, he was extremely generous." He pulled a business card and tossed it on the desk. "By the way, if you need a ghostwriter to punch up some of your dry books, give me a call... or just call if you're lonely." He blew a kiss to her and exited.  
Lara ripped the card and flipped the pieces into the air.  
Gordon placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're free to go, Dr. Croft. Sorry about the inconvenience."  
She frowned and looked down at the floor. "Thank you for being the gentleman that you are, Commissioner. If you can provide a ride to the hotel, I would appreciate it."  
"Well, I know a number of officers would jump at the chance to give you a ride, but someone is already waiting for you at the front desk. He's been there for a half hour." He placed a finger under her chin. "Come on now. Shake it off. Don't let scumbags like Gray get you down."  
"It's not the scumbags that worry me. It's their employers."  
  
***  
  
At the front desk, an elderly gentleman stood near a bench next to the front door. He was dressed in a business suit and held a derby in his hand. He approached Lara.  
"Is everything alright, Miss Lara?"  
"Why, Alfred, it's a pleasure to finally meet you, but you didn't have to come to the police station."  
"On the contrary, my orders were to post your bail if charged with a crime. A command, which I gladly accepted," he did a slight bow. "In my opinion, jail is not suitable for a young lady like yourself."  
"Well, you don't have to bother. The reporter dropped the charges. What I need is a ride to the hotel." She checked the cell phone to be sure it was fully powered.  
"And what are your plans for the day, if I may ask?"  
She looked up and twisted her lips. "I know I have to be at a book signing session at the Galleria this afternoon. That should take a couple of hours. Other than that, I am just waiting for a friend to contact me, which is long overdue."  
"Then, please, indulge the request of an old man. Allow me to be your driver for the day. I could give you a tour of Gotham City, and drive you to your appointments. Afterwards we could share a pot of tea." Alfred put on his best beggar's face.  
"What a wonderful offer! That is very kind of you," she grinned. "Please lead the way."  
"Certainly, Miss Lara," he held the door open.  
"Could we start at the harbor area?" she asked.  
"Any particular reason?"   
"I want to look at the ships."  
  
* **  
  
Steven was thrown into a room and bounced off the metal floor. He had a very brief tour of the ship while being forced to walk as directed. The room had a small cot, a table and chair, and a closed cupboard above the table. With a bruised face and cut lip, he crawled to the cot. His teeth clenched from the pain in his ribs. After placing a hand on the cot, the door opened.  
Elias Gregor entered with Voldo.   
"Steven, we missed you at the office this morning. What's the matter? Don't you want to work for me anymore?"  
Steven struggled to get into the cot as he watched Gregor and Voldo.   
They stepped closer to him.  
"I'm rather disappointed in you, Steven. All the things I have done for you and this is how you pay me back. Stealing my secrets," Gregor sat in the chair.  
"Please let me go," Steven begged.  
"What were you doing in the offices yesterday?" Gregor crossed his legs and folded his hands.  
"Nothing. I didn't do a thing," Steven stammered.  
"Nothing?" Gregor sighed. "First you shut down my laptop improperly, and then you jet out of the office as if your pants were on fire. Now, I want to know what you did and why."  
"I wanted to do a network upgrade on your laptop, that's all. I swear to God, that's all."  
"You expect me to buy that story?" Gregor nodded to Voldo.  
Steven's arm was twisted and two of his fingers were gripped.  
"One more time, I want to know what you did and why."  
"I backed up your hard drive on to the server so I could do the upgrade in case something went wrong! That's the truth, I swear!"  
Gregor motioned to Voldo.   
Two fingers were wrenched until they popped. Steven screamed loud enough to make the walls vibrate.  
"Why did you run?"  
"I didn't recognize your assistant! I thought he was a burglar! Honest!" Steven breathed rapidly.  
"Why don't I believe you?" Gregor stood. "Excuse the viciousness of my methods, but I am on the edge of an important deal and I don't want a hint of a foul up. I'm going to the office to check out your story and I will be back to ask the same questions. Meanwhile, I will leave you something to think about until I return."  
Voldo pulled out a hammer from his back pocket.  
"What are you going to do? No! What are you doing?" Steven cried.  
"Just a little insurance that you will be here when I get back." Gregor walked to the door.  
"Please don't! I told you the truth! I didn't do anything!" Steven kicked at Voldo.  
Voldo blocked the kick, immobilized the leg, and cracked the knee with the hammer.  
Steven's screams echoed down the hallway as Gregor and Voldo left the room.  
  
***  
  
Part Four  
  
Lara pressed the numbers on the cell phone.  
An answering machine responded.  
She frowned, closed the cell phone, and viewed the passing scenery through the car's window.  
"Still unable to contact your friend, Miss Lara?" He maneuvered the car into a driveway and remained silent when she didn't reply.  
Her fingers brushed her cheek as she gazed out the window. After several seconds her head moved from left to right. "Where are we? What is this place?"  
"Wayne Manor. I thought it would be more relaxing to have tea here then the café at the Galleria or hotel. Don't you agree?" His eyes sparkled as he drove to the front door.  
"In some ways it reminds me of home in Surrey." She observed the massive building, and then snapped her fingers. "Alfred, may I use the phone? I have to report to my publisher how the book signing went along."  
"Why, of course, Miss Lara. Follow me."  
Trailing through the main door into the large foyer, she twirled and admired the décor and the adjoining rooms, and marveled at the twin staircases that ended at the opposite sides of the foyer.   
Alfred beckoned her to follow. "There is a phone you can use in the library."  
The double doors were swung open.   
Lara's mouth hung in amazement as she circled the hub of the room. It was a two-story room with shelves of books on every wall. Circular stairs to the second floor section led to a small desk and reading lamp. On the main floor in the middle of the room were a couple of reading chairs with end tables and a floor lamp. A couch of similar style faced the chairs. On the edge of this group was a formal desk with a reading light and a telephone.   
She scanned the books on one shelf and noticed a number of first editions.  
"Master Bruce's collection is quite extensive."   
"Almost heaven," she whispered.  
"Make your calls while I prepare the tea. It shouldn't be more than a moment." Alfred left the room.  
Lara dialed a number and looked at her watch. "She may still be in the office."  
The phone clicked for overseas exchange. A few seconds passed until someone answered.  
"Yes, Heather Green's office, please... Thank you... Hello, Heather, its Lara. How have you been?... The book signing went better than I expected, but the curator has been disagreeable at times... I don't know why... The Exposition is over on Sunday. Why?... What!"   
She dropped in the chair and listened for a long time. Her face turned red.  
"I'm sorry, Heather, but I cannot tell you that... I cannot... I cannot tell you their names... Why? Because they are trusted friends, that is why... No!... No, no, I cannot!... Give me his phone number and I will call him!... I'll tell him the same thing."   
She lifted a pen from the desk drawer and ripped a slip of paper from the message pad.  
"Yes, I've got it now... No, Heather, I am not angry with you... Don't feel that way, okay?" She rested her chin on her hand. "I'll call him straight away... Right... When I get back I'll let you know... Right, bye."   
She set the phone on the cradle and slumped in the chair.  
"You look as if you just completed a twelve round bout with a frightening large opponent," exclaimed Alfred.  
"Problems at home. Lately, everywhere I go there seems to be a problem. At this rate, my digestive system will be lined with ulcers before the month ends." Her head tilted up against the chair.  
"What could possibly be troubling you now?" He placed a tray of teacups and croissants on the desk. The teapot was set next to the tray.  
"Apparently, certain members of Parliament want my head on a platter. They believe I jeopardized the country's relationship with China from my latest 'unauthorized' excursion to the Great Wall. My publisher told me the Prime Minister wants a full detailed report by tomorrow. He wants names of the people involved as well." Lara covered her eyes and sighed.  
Alfred poured the tea. "May I make a suggestion. Due to the fact reporters will have you in their scopes about this news, why not stay here. It is evident they will not leave you a moments rest. But here, you could regain your sanity from the maelstrom of circumstances that have entangled your life. We have all the necessities you require to finish any report or complete any task, plus some luxuries you may enjoy."  
"Yes, Lara. Please stay." Bruce stood by the door.  
She suppressed a smile and looked at Alfred. He winked at Lara.  
"Alfred, arrange to pick up Lara's things at the hotel. While you're away, I'll give her a tour of the grounds."  
"Certainly, Master Bruce. I shall see to it, personally."  
"I don't want to impose on your hospitality," she responded.  
Alfred snapped, "Nonsense. It's no imposition at all. We very rarely have overnight guests. This would be a treat." He smiled and exited the room.  
Bruce lowered his head and blushed.  
Lara snickered, "Rarely have overnight guests? Mr. Wayne, how did you ever generate a playboy reputation?"  
"Don't believe everything you read. Most of those articles are from women I never met." He walked to the couch and sat.  
She placed an elbow on the desk and rested her chin on her knuckles. "And what about those you have met?"  
He shrugged, "I don't know what compels those women to tell their fantasies to the media. In truth I have a friend who is a talent agent. Whenever a large function will occur in town, he arranges the dates for the exposure of upcoming movie stars--."  
"I see. A private escort service."   
He waved a hand. "It's nothing like that--."  
"Oh, your own private pimp?" She appeared angry.  
Bruce paused. "How did this turn from an invitation for a tour to a sordid accusation on my personal life?"   
She shook her head and giggled. "Because it is pitiful, Bruce. Just pitiful. You are a well-known philanthropist, a stunningly handsome bachelor, and you resort to prearranged blind dates with want-to-be movie starlets. It sounds so... ludicrous."  
He pouted and acted as if the air was sucked out of his cheeks. Immediately he stood and pointed at her. "You know... you're right! You are absolutely right! It does sound ludicrous!" He walked in a semi-circle to the edge of the desk. "And I will do something about that."  
A second passed in silence.  
"Are you ready for the tour?"  
Lara tilted her head away. "No, I don't think you will do anything about that." She laughed to herself and picked on a croissant. "Give me a moment to make a call to the Prime Minister, then I will take your little tour."   
He winked, "Let me check on some personal things while you make your calls. I'll be right back."  
Lara watched Bruce leave and let out a long sigh. After a sip of tea, she dialed the number on the slip of paper.  
  
***  
  
Gregor entered the warm room and paced slowly. Voldo stood by the door. Steven held his leg and groaned.  
"We've got a problem," Gregor hissed and sat in the chair.  
Steven whimpered, "Please, no more. Please."  
Gregor rested his chin on his thumb and stared. "One of our cartridge tapes is missing. You know the one, Steven. The same kind we do our daily backups with. Where is it?"  
"I... I kept it in... in a safe place," he gasped.  
Gregor leaned towards Steven. "Voldo did not find it in your desk, nor in your apartment. Where is it?"  
Voldo twisted Steven's arm and grabbed two other fingers.  
"No! No! No! Please... Please don't!"  
"Where is it?"  
"It's... in a locker... in the terminal... the bus terminal." He gulped for air.  
"Steven, I pressed the redial button on the phone on your desk, just out of curiosity. Guess who answered?" He frowned, "The receptionist at the Grand Hilton Hotel." His finger tapped his temple. "Now, who is staying at the Grand Hilton that we know? Hmm..." He mocked a surprise look. "Lara Croft!" He leaned forward and snarled, "Does she have the key?"  
Voldo placed his knee on the back of the bruised leg, pulled on Steven's foot, and twisted.  
Steven screamed and shook his head as if in a wild spasm. His face turned blood red as he yelled louder with every twist.  
Voldo sneered and wrenched the leg.  
"Does Lara Croft have the key?"  
Steven screeched long and hard, and then passed out.  
Voldo dropped the leg and stood. He placed his fingers on Steven's neck and looked at Gregor. "He is still alive," he grimaced.  
Gregor thought for a moment and pointed to Voldo. "I want you to go back to his apartment and look for the key. Also, get our new employee, Mr. Gray, to keep an eye on Lara Croft and report to you anything he finds." He glanced at Steven. "I hope, for his sake, he didn't get her involved."  
Voldo asked, "And what if the woman is involved?"  
"He's a dead man," he replied.  
"And the woman?"  
Gregor glared at Voldo, and then he exited the room.  
  
***  
  
Lara sent her personal secretary an e-mail. Notes were sent from her escapade to China and a brief outline on how the report should look before presenting it to the Prime Minister. Then the articles on Elias Gregor were highlighted and read. They were short old clips, regarding graduation from school and starting a real estate company. They were not interesting, and she closed her laptop.  
The décor in the large living room was simple but elegant. The light from the fireplace danced along the opposite wall to the huge unadorned windows. Outside, the declining sunlight turned the grounds into obscured grays.  
She faced the windows and recalled the tour of Wayne Manor: lovely landscape, an invitingly long outdoor pool, a company helicopter on a grassy knoll, an impressive automobile and motorcycle collection, and lots of rooms. "What does he do for enjoyment?" she murmured.  
Alfred and Bruce entered.  
"Dinner will be served in a few minutes. I took the liberty of putting the suitcases in your room. I believe Master Bruce did show you which one it was."  
She nodded, "He was a very pleasant host."  
Bruce smiled.  
"Just to inform you, Miss Lara, there were a number of messages I collected from the front desk of the hotel. The majority appears to be from reporters requesting interviews for the BBC, CNN, 20/20, and Larry King. They are all on the table next to the bed." He turned to Bruce. "I tried my best to elude the reporters laid siege at the hotel, but one persistent fellow in a gray car was able to follow me here."  
"Don't worry about it, Alfred. You did a fine job." Bruce patted him on the back before he left.  
"He is an exceptional person." She walked to an end of the sofa.  
Bruce glanced at her, sat on the sofa, and faced the fireplace. "Yes, he is. I don't know what I would do without him."  
Except for the crackling from the fireplace, the room was silent for several seconds. Then they both spoke at the same time, and stopped.  
"I'm sorry. What was that you said?"  
"No, no, Lara. What were you going to say?"  
She slid into the sofa. "Elias Gregor said he had approached you with a business proposition, which eventually was very profitable to him. Why didn't you participate in the venture?"  
His head turned and he looked above the fireplace. "Regardless of what others may think of me or how I acquired my wealth, I remind myself of the one thing my parents gave me, and that is my name. I know that it is written, 'A good name is better than great riches...'. That is the one thing I have always kept in mind throughout my business affairs. I could have easily succumbed to self-gratification because of my wealth, but that would not have honored my parents memory."  
Lara gazed above the mantel and saw a large painting of a woman sitting in a chair with a man standing behind her.  
"So every business deal I do is to uphold the Wayne name as honorable as I can. Now to address Elias Gregor's proposal, I was cautious. I researched the company, Natla Technologies, as well as Jacqueline Natla and Elias Gregor. From my sources I found them to be unscrupulous in one way or another. It was my decision not to mix my name with theirs. I may have lost a fortune by not investing in the project, but I didn't loose my credibility. In the end my associates still know who they are dealing with when they approach me."  
"What did you find on Elias Gregor that was unscrupulous?"   
"Dubious land deals he was charged with, but settled out of court. Commingling client's money with his own, which almost cost him his broker's license, but also was settled in a quiet fashion. And a folder of juvenile offenses that was kept from public scrutiny." He sat back and folded his hands.  
She brought a leg on the sofa and faced him. "How did you find all this out?"  
"I have my sources."  
Lara furrowed her brow. "I'm worried about a friend who is employed by Gregor Shipping Company. He hasn't called."  
"When was the last you heard from him?"  
"Yesterday afternoon. We had lunch together."  
"If you want to file a missing person's report--."  
She shook her head and frowned. "He may be with someone, on a date, or something like that. I probably am worrying needlessly."  
Bruce extended his hand towards her. "Give me his phone number and I will have someone check on him."  
"A private investigator?"  
He nodded.  
Lara pulled out a slip of paper from her handbag.  
He teased, "This is Steven's number, and not the Prime Minister's number. Right?"   
She chuckled. "There would be a lot more digits if it was... On second thought, maybe we should know the Prime Minister's whereabouts and the company he keeps."  
They laughed.  
"Now what were you going to say, Bruce?"  
He sighed, "Well... since you will be my guest for the next few days... Would you like to go to the concert at the Gotham Center tomorrow evening?"  
"A concert?" Her voice was gleeful.  
"Or maybe the circus?"  
"Just because I am your guest, you expect me to automatically say 'yes'?" she teased.  
"No. I expect you to say 'yes' because you would want to go."  
"Really?" She raised an eyebrow.  
Bruce paused. "No, not really. It's because I want you to come with me." His face turned red.  
"I would love to go." She touched his hand, squeezed, and locked eyes with his. Her senses soaked in his strong features; warm dark eyes, granite-edge chin, and tight lips.  
He studied her lovely face; wide brown eyes, creamy smooth skin, and full lips.  
They gazed for a few seconds, and slowly moved closer.  
A log snapped and heels clicked on hardwood.  
They flinched and looked at the doorway.  
"I said, dinner is served," Alfred bellowed.  
  
***  
  
Voldo walked into the ship's mess hall and waited just beyond the light. Gregor stood at a table where eight dark-clad men had gathered.   
"Now you know the plan, the time schedule, what rooms to hit, and the escape route. The ship will not be in port tomorrow evening but there will be a boat waiting at the docks. These are the coordinates of our rendezvous point at sea. In case you split up and don't make it to the boat with the others, find a way to get there, I don't care how, and set your GPS to the coordinates. Gentlemen, remember, after you cut off the power at the Galleria, the backup generators will kick in within thirty seconds. Plenty of time to dash and grab. We start at twenty-three hundred, tomorrow evening. The boat will leave the docks at twenty-three fifteen, at the latest. If all goes well, we'll be on our way at oh-six hundred the following morning." He leaned on the table. "The General assured me you are an elite group, so I don't expect any deviation from the plan. But, in case of that unknown factor, carry small arms or concealed weapons, and wear your bulletproof vests. See you at the rendezvous point." He walked towards Voldo and folded his arms. "What do you have for me?"  
Voldo folded his arms in kind. "Mr. Gray reported he heard an old man settle her bill and had the woman's bags. The old man went to a large estate. He said it was Wayne Manor."   
Gregor pushed air through his clenched teeth. "Lara, Lara. Why are you getting involved with that playboy when I can do so much more, and better, for you." He bit his thumbnail and thought. "We don't know for sure if she knows anything, right?"  
Voldo nodded.  
"Take a couple of these men to patrol the bus terminal. I want to know if anyone picks up that tape cartridge before tomorrow night."  
"Then we clean up?"  
"Yes, brother, then we clean up."  
  
***  
  
Bruce and Lara strolled through the foyer to the living room.  
"I hope you can relax tomorrow. Just let Alfred know of anything you need during your stay. He will keep you comfortable and guard your privacy from the public."  
"What if I wish to go about town?"  
"Speak to Alfred. He will give you the keys to one of the vehicles in the garage. But you should be careful. This China debacle is fresh and newsworthy, which will make you a target for the media."  
They sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace.   
Lara fidgeted and glanced at Bruce. "When will you contact your private investigator?"  
"As soon as possible."  
She looked at the fire, fidgeted some more, and took a deep breath. "Bruce, I have a confession to make. The real reason I agreed to participate in the Exposition was to meet with you and..." She sighed. "The reason I came was to..." Her eyes closed and she bit her lip. "I'm not very good at this."  
He faced her and listened.  
"Originally, my reason in being here was as a fundraiser for the British Museum." She watched him.  
He tilted his head.  
"Let me explain what had happened. When I returned home from China, colleagues who heard snippets of my adventure and what had occurred at the Great Wall confronted me. Well, the curator and some board directors got wind of the story. They arranged a private audience with me, and I received a thorough tongue lashing from them. They feared the ramifications from my unauthorized expedition. First, they were worried the Chinese government would pull out of the Asian Exhibit and humiliate the museum. Second, the bad publicity would hamper their fundraising efforts and cause a great deal of embarrassment. They were afraid a number of projects would be shelved, terminated, or delayed due to lack of funds. 'Financial backers would pull out from all of this bad press,' they said. Fortunately I had your invitation in my hand and I said, 'What if I could get a well-known foundation to make a contribution to the British Museum.'  
When they asked what foundation, I presented the letter. They read it, but said I couldn't exhibit any items the museum presently had. I was to use whatever I had in my personal collection. A huge argument followed, and nasty accusations were flung. The end result from the discussion was... if I can get a major contribution from your foundation, they would take it into consideration and look more favorably on me."  
She paused and brushed back her hair.  
"The next couple of days blurred on by. I had to arrange for my collection to be shipped on short notice. If it weren't for your personal secretary to assist in my flight arrangements and accommodations, I would definitely be a bundle of nerves. She was extremely helpful."  
He smiled briefly.  
"If the truth be told, I would admit I normally don't do this sort of thing. The museum has professionals to perform fundraising. I may attend a dinner or two, just to show my face... and I never allow my personal collection to be on tour. I must have leaned a little bit on your associate to guarantee a secured room."  
Bruce folded his hands. "He said you sounded a bit high-strung regarding the exhibit room when I met with him this morning. He apologizes for any misunderstanding."  
"But what I wanted to say is... I reacted defensively when they accused me of adventurism. The result has led me here to Gotham City's Exposition, but..."  
She closed her eyes tight.  
"Everything has started to unravel. Now the British government is involved and Parliament has made wild accusations in what happened in China. This could be a total embarrassment for the museum. When I return to London, I shouldn't be surprised if the museum vacated my position and removed my name from their roster of approved archaeologists."  
She took a long deep breath.  
"My question to you is this. Whatever museum or institute I associate my name with, may I count on your support... and a contribution from the foundation?"  
Bruce brought his folded hands to his mouth and thought. "Let me see if I understand this correctly. In case the British Museum drops you because of the current events, you want the Wayne Foundation to be your... parachute, if you will, so wherever you land, your reputation will not be damaged from the fall. Your research will continue because of the funding of a major contributor to the institution you are associated with. Did I guess right?"  
Lara nodded hesitantly, and blinked.  
He pointed at her. "One question, do you like working with the British Museum?"  
Her eyes drifted down, and she contemplated. "I would have to say 'yes'. I am comfortable with them, regardless of the political games they play. But I have to deal with the reality that they may drop me in order to save face. Your support will definitely soften the blow to my reputation and allow me to continue with my career."  
He shifted his jaw, and said, "Let me propose this. My secretary will draw up a letter and address it to the British Museum stating as long as Dr. Lara Croft maintains her present position within their institution, and is on the roster of approved archaeologists, the Wayne Foundation will contribute to their fundraising projects."  
She exhaled, grinned, and held his hand. "Thank you, Bruce. You don't know what a relief it is for me to hear that."  
He straightened his back. "It's just good business, Lara. Don't think any more about it."  
"But you don't know that much about me, yet you are willing to take a risk on my career. Unless...," She thought for a moment. "Do you happen to have a folder filed away about me?"  
"Lara, I have your books. What more do I need?"  
She leaned forward and kissed him.  
Startled, he asked, "What was that for?"  
"For my memoirs. I want to be able to write, 'I kissed Gotham City's most eligible bachelor'." She blushed, tilted her head, and grinned like a Cheshire cat.  
He placed a hand on her soft cheek and moved closer.  
"Excuse me, Master Bruce," the baritone voice resounded.  
He turned towards the doorway. "Alfred, you have impeccable timing."  
"I'm sorry, sir, but an urgent matter has occurred that demands your attention."  
Bruce stood, looked at Lara, and sighed. "Excuse me, Lara. There are some things that require my personal touch."  
"No need for apologies. It provides time for me to check my messages. Good night, gentlemen." She exited and climbed the stairs to her room.  
They stood still until her door closed.  
"The computer received a transmission this afternoon. Another cartoon commercial for a breakfast cereal, but there is a difference between this latest one and the others received before. The latest one was generated from a different location, a few blocks south from the spot of the previous transmissions."  
Bruce pouted and crossed his arms. "A few blocks south is the harbor. They must be on the ship. I don't like it. Something is going to happen soon and I haven't a clue. I probably have to get on the ship to find something, plus look in after Lara's friend."  
"Will it be a long night?" Alfred sounded remorseful.  
"Don't wait up." He walked across the foyer, touched a hidden trigger, and opened a secret panel. He descended the hidden staircase that led to the cave.  
  
***  
  
Lara thumbed through the messages and stashed a couple in her briefcase. Messages from reporters, and Elias Gregor, were tossed in the wastebasket. A small white envelope on the table caught her attention. When she picked it up, the weight of something inside was felt. A key dropped out of the envelope after she opened it. She walked out of the room and headed towards the foyer.   
Alfred was turning away from the living room.  
"Where is Bruce?"  
Alfred jumped. "Miss Lara, you gave me a start." He glanced over his shoulder to a panel. "He had to step out for a while. He should return shortly. Is there something I may help you with?"  
She frowned, and then held up a key. "Do you know where this key came from?"  
"I believe that was amongst your messages, probably in the white envelope."  
"Correct. Do you know what it unlocks?"   
"From the looks of the engraved number, a traveler's locker, like the kind in the Gotham City bus terminal."  
"Where is the bus terminal located?" she asked.  
"In the heart of downtown, about six blocks south of the Grand Hilton Hotel. Do you plan to go there tonight?"  
"Not tonight, Alfred. This could be something Steven left for me."  
"Steven?"  
"Yes, my friend Steven. Didn't I tell you the name of my friend?"  
"No, Miss Lara, I'm afraid you didn't."  
She paused. "Well, then... Steven is the friend I am worried about. Will Bruce be contacting his investigator?"  
"Yes, he will contact him and be on the case, as they say."  
  
***  
  
The dark figure landed on the roof of an apartment building and scurried down the fire escape to a fourth floor window. The window was unlocked and the glass broken.   
After climbing through the window, the absence of glass shards on the floor was noted. The apartment looked disheveled, but a flashlight showed contents from drawers and shelves were emptied on the floor, and books littered about. The entrance door was locked. Next to the door a small stereo system laid on the floor. A broken portable television rested near a chair.   
The room was scanned one more time, and then the figure exited through the window.   
Several minutes later, on the rooftop of a warehouse, a pair of night-vision binoculars was used to view the harbor. A slow pan of the waters accounted for every ship, except one. The Kraken was not there.  
  
***  
  
Part Five  
  
The following day started as a sunny morning. A cool refreshing breeze from the ocean permeated the mansion. The distant squawk of seagulls carried to each corner of every room.  
Lara bounded down the stairs. Dressed in boots, tan shorts, and a blue-green body suit, she skipped into the dining room. A leather knapsack hung under her arm.  
Alfred placed a plate of food on the table and said in a cheery tone, "Good morning, Miss Lara."  
"Good morning, Alfred. Is Bruce awake?" She grabbed a slice of fruit and ate.  
"He has left for a morning meeting and should return before noon."  
She drank a glass of juice and said, "Bruce gave permission should I need a vehicle to go about town, to ask you for the keys."  
"Wouldn't you like breakfast first?"  
A banana and pastry were selected, wrapped in a napkin, and stuffed in her knapsack. "I'll eat them along the way."  
"Follow me." Alfred handed her a bottle of water.  
They walked by the kitchen, through a short hallway, down a few steps, and into the garage area.   
Alfred opened a key cabinet and looked at Lara.   
She pointed at a vehicle before he could speak.  
The key was lifted from the hook, and a nearby closet door opened.   
"Before I give you the key, promise you will wear these." He handed her a brown leather jacket and a red helmet.  
Lara fastened her gunbelt and took the helmet.  
"Oh, no, no, my dear. You cannot be seen in the city with those pistols exposed." He opened the leather jacket. "There are two deep pockets inside the jacket for those items."  
She slipped on the jacket and placed the guns inside the pockets. The knapsack was tied on the back of the motorcycle.   
"I shouldn't be gone long." She straddled the bike and fastened the helmet.  
"Please be careful," he pleaded.  
She nodded and flipped the engine on. The bike growled to life, and then settled into a deep purr. She kicked it into gear and roared down the driveway.  
Alfred returned to the dining room, took the plate of food, and walked towards the foyer. The secret trigger was pressed, and he stepped down into the staircase.  
Bruce reclined in front of the computer panel. The cowl and cape draped over the chair's headrest. His eyes were dark and angry, while his right fist smacked the palm of his left. "I lost, Alfred! The ship is gone!" He shook his head. "I should have investigated the boat myself when I became suspicious! Damn fool!"  
"Sir, don't be so hard on yourself. You said the harbormaster sent officials on board to investigate. Their report suggested nothing unusual was found."  
"Something is going to happen! These short masked transmissions have made me uncomfortable! Without the computer program to filter them or uncover their signal, I have no insight what they were about or what is going on aboard that ship!" He stared at the cartoon commercial on a nearby monitor. "The filter is the key! Otherwise I have nothing! No clue!"  
Alfred placed the plate on a desk and crossed his arms.  
"I must have lost focus somewhere," Bruce continued. "I should have dropped out of the committee for the Exposition! I knew that would take away my time!"  
"Sir, you cannot neglect public appearances or personal obligations. How could the company or the foundation function without their namesake?"  
"I'm just a figurehead, Alfred, and you know it! They could continue very well without me!"  
"You still need a personal life, with all the joys and sorrows that come with it."  
"Bruce Wayne doesn't deserve a personal life! He would be better off without the responsibilities!" He slumped in the chair.  
"On the contrary, it is because of Bruce Wayne that you are the Batman. Without his life, you would not be able to exist down here." Alfred paused. "Remember when you asked for names of possible exhibitors for the Exposition? I suggested Dr. Croft... and your eyes lit up. For the first time in years, your countenance glowed for days... and when she accepted the invitation, your voice had a gleeful tone and your walk had a little more pop in it." He eyed the plate and tapped its edge. "Those little enjoyments are the things I strive for you to have, Master Bruce."  
"But she came for a donation! She came for her own reasons! A contribution from the foundation!"  
"Yes, she may have come for that, but she came because of your name. The Wayne Foundation is a legacy to the memory of your parents... established by their loving son."  
Silence settled into the cave for a few seconds.  
Bruce rubbed his forehead. "Where is Lara now?"  
"Traveling to downtown on the red motorcycle. The one you had considered to sponsor for the racing circuit. A 900cc seemed to suit her quite well."  
"I don't have much news about her friend, either. Someone ransacked the apartment and tried to make it look like a break in. They apparently were searching for something."  
Alfred's eyes widened. "Oh, dear!"  
"What is it?"  
"Miss Lara received a key from Steven yesterday! When she asked what kind of key it was, I told her it looked like a key used for a traveler's locker at the downtown bus terminal! She is on her way there!"  
Bruce flipped a switch on the panel. "Let's hope she carried the cell phone with her."  
A map of the city appeared on a screen and a red light blinked in the middle.  
Alfred peered over Bruce's shoulder. "She seems to have taken the scenic route."  
"And she is traveling at a high rate of speed." Bruce paused. "Someone must be chasing her!" He grabbed the cape and cowl.  
"It could be reporters."  
"It could also be the person who ransacked her friend's apartment! I have to be sure!"  
"But, sir, in the daylight... as Batman?"  
"She may be in trouble, Alfred! I have to be ready!"  
"I assure you, she appeared very capable of handling her own troubles." Alfred stepped in front of Bruce. "Why not use the company's helicopter? It is still on the back lawn. You will see if she is having problems, and if that is so, then you could intervene."  
Bruce nodded and ran up the stairs.  
  
***  
  
Lara looked up and down the street at the end of the driveway.   
On the left a gray car was partially hidden by the bend in the road.   
She turned and cruised near the car.   
The driver leaned over to the passenger side to hide from sight.   
Lara raced past the car and looked in the rearview mirror.   
The car squealed and whirled around.  
"Come on, sport. Let's see what you got," she sneered, revved the engine, and accelerated.  
Unfamiliar with the twists and turns of the backroads, she braked often. She had to contend with stop signs and traffic as well, while the gray car stayed in view. When directional signs to the interstate appeared, she turned and sped up the entrance ramp. The bike was brought up to a cruising speed of ninety-five miles per hour, which created a huge gap between her and the car. It almost became a dot in the mirror.  
"Don't worry, love. I'm not going to loose you," she murmured.  
A few miles later she took the next exit, and waited. As soon as the car was spotted, she followed signs to a wooded park. Rushing through the road in the park, she found a secluded area near some bushes, drove off the road, and hid.  
Several minutes later the gray car crept in sight.  
Lara pounced.   
The driver's door was opened and a gun prodded his temple.   
"Shut off the car!" she yelled.  
The man turned the key and raised his hands. He leaned towards the passenger side as the gun was pushed harder on his head. The keys were pulled from the ignition.  
"Get out!" she commanded.  
The man squirmed out and pressed against the car while the gun pointed to his face. "You won't get away with this, Croft," he shivered.  
"On the contrary, Mr. Gray, yes I will. This is retribution for your many comments." She pulled his collar and slammed his face down on the trunk. "Empty your pockets!"  
Frantically he tossed everything on the trunk. "Com'on, I didn't mean anything by it! Honest! It was harmless fun!"  
She picked up his cell phone and dropped it on the ground. Her heel twisted on the phone until it crackled into pieces. "Why are you following me, Mr. Gray?"  
"They told me to keep tabs on you and report where you were," he shuddered.  
"Why?"  
"I don't know why. They never told me why."  
Lara stepped back and shot.  
Gray shook at the sound, and then heard a hissing noise near his leg.  
"The next one will be aimed at your leg!" she growled.  
He squealed, "Honest! Honest! They never told me why! I was to report where you were every hour! The phone number is right there above my head!"  
She picked up a piece of paper on the trunk. "Whose phone number is this?"  
"Gregor's associate. A tall, muscular fellow, and very mean looking."  
"Where is Elias Gregor now?"  
"I don't know. I just speak with his associate." The sweat glistened on his forehead.  
Lara poked the gun in the back of his head.  
"Oh my God! Oh my God! No! Please, Croft! No! That's all I know! Honest! Believe me!" he cried.  
She stepped back and looked about the secluded area of the park.  
"Strip!" she bellowed.  
His eyes grew large. "What?"  
"You heard me! I said, strip!"  
"What are you going to do? Shoot me while I'm naked?"  
The gun jabbed into his back. "Take them off!"  
His jacket was dropped and pants unraveled. The shoes were scooped off, and he stepped out of his pants and unbuttoned his shirt. His voice trembled, "This doesn't serve any purpose, Croft, and you know it!"  
"All of it!"  
His mouth opened and his jaw quivered. The tee shirt was ripped off and boxers pulled down. His hands covered his groin as he faced the car. Beige colored socks were the only clothing left. His pudgy body was riddled with blemishes on his back and shoulders.  
Lara winced.  
"Croft, please, please, please don't shoot me!" he wept.  
"Well, now you know how a celebrity feels when hounded by the press. Like a fish in a glass bowl, naked for the world to see! And what does the press want to do? This!" She shot at another tire.  
Gray jumped and shrieked, "Please don't shoot me! Please don't shoot me!"  
"The press wants to shoot you down! They want your blood!" She paused.  
He whimpered and looked over his shoulder.  
"Now, Mr. Gray, I'm going to give you a sporting chance." The cold barrel of the gun was struck in to his back.  
He twitched and listened.  
"See that group of trees over there? Start running for them, and I will count to ten. If you get to those trees before I reach ten, then you have a chance of getting away by hiding among them."  
"Wha-what happens wh-when you reach t-t-ten?" he stammered.  
Her voice turned cold, "Then I'm coming after you, Mr. Gray! When I reach ten, I'm going to hunt you down!"  
He pleaded, "Croft, come on! Let's make a deal here!"  
"One!"  
"This is not the way to do it! Give me a chance! Please!"  
"Two!"  
He scampered in front of the car and shouted, "Please don't shoot me! Please don't shoot me!"  
"Three!"   
The trunk of the car was opened. She saw him racing to the trees. His mounds of fat jiggled in the sun.  
"Four!"  
The clothes were collected and dumped into the trunk.  
"Five!"  
Keys were thrown on top of the clothes and the trunk closed.  
"Six!"  
He reached the shade of the first tree.  
"Seven!"  
The driver's door was closed, and she walked to the front of the car.  
"Eight!"  
He trotted between the trees and looked back at her.  
"Nine!"  
She aimed.   
He froze and watched.  
"Ten!"  
She fired and nicked a tree close to him.  
He sprinted away and disappeared among the foliage.  
She jumped on the bike and was briefly distracted by the thumping sound of a helicopter. Without further thought she exited the park and roared back onto the interstate.  
  
* **  
  
The stop and go traffic of downtown Gotham City made Lara take a longer time to reach the bus terminal. After weaving between the cars, she parked at a corner near the terminal. The terminal's architecture was over-imposing with its thick columns and ornate façade.   
Inside, the ticket booth was located in the middle of the main floor. Pay phones, vending machines, and a few specialty stores lined the walls. A magazine stand stood near the ticket booth. Benches were placed sporadically around the floor.  
She approached the ticket booth. "Excuse me. Where are the lockers located?"  
The man behind the booth sorted papers and didn't look up. "They are on the mezzanine area. Go up the stairs next to the entrance."   
With a brief view up, she noticed the handrail of the upper level, which overlooked the main floor.  
A man on a bench lowered his paper and watched Lara ascend the stairs.  
Rows of lockers stretched in both directions on the mezzanine floor. She stepped to the first row and walked to the end until she found the locker number. After glancing over the handrail, she opened the locker. Steven's backpack was pulled out and placed on the floor.  
A beefy arm came around her neck. "Come with me and you won't get hurt--."  
Lara's reflex brought her elbow into the man's solar plexus. Within the second of his loosened grip, she grabbed his collar with both hands, placed a boot on his stomach, rolled on her back, and sent him sailing over the handrail.  
A crash of magazines resounded throughout the terminal.  
The backpack was picked up, and she scurried to the stairwell.   
A tall, muscular fellow waited at the bottom of the steps. He waved a gun with a silencer, and aimed it at her.  
She jumped back to the top and dashed down the row of lockers. At the other end of the mezzanine was a smaller stairwell to the main floor. She leapt down the steps.  
Another large man appeared at the bottom.   
At the last few steps she jumped at the man and landed with both feet on his chest.   
He flew across the floor and banged his head against a vending machine.  
Lara pushed against the handle of the metal emergency door and raced down the busy sidewalk, colliding with a few pedestrians. As soon as the bike was reached, she glanced back.  
The tall stranger ran and shoved people aside for a clear shot.   
The engine revved and the bike leapt into traffic. It wove between the cars, got to the other side of the street, and accelerated down the sidewalk. At the next street it zipped around the corner, and zigzagged from one street to another until the beltway leading out of the downtown area was reached.  
  
***  
  
At Wayne Manor, Lara cruised around the driveway to the garage. From a distance she noticed the helicopter's blades rotating slowly and Bruce walking away. He wore a pullover sweater and loose-fitting slacks.  
"Good afternoon. You came back later than expected. Was it 'business casual' day at the office?"  
"I was overseeing the work of... someone. It took longer than I thought." His manner was grim.  
She noted the coldness in his tone and asked, "Did everything go alright?"  
"The person performed admirably, and the results were satisfactory."  
Silence followed, and Lara waited for more of an explanation. When it didn't come, she asked, "What's wrong, Bruce? Why the somber mood?"  
He guided her to a stone bench, and they both sat.  
Bruce was expressionless when he spoke. "Lara, the investigator found your friend's apartment ransacked. He believes the intruder was searching for something."  
Shocked, she inquired, "Did... did he find Steven?"  
He shook his head.  
She rubbed her forehead. "Maybe he is hiding someplace. Did your investigator say anything else?"  
He tightened his jaw. "There was no evidence of a forced entry."  
"And what does that mean?"  
"That means the intruder had a key to the apartment. The investigator found the door locked when he checked."  
Her eyebrows rose. "Is he really sure? Maybe they entered another way! Did he check that as well?"  
"A window to a fire escape was broken, but no broken glass was on the floor. That suggests the window was broken from the inside... maybe to make it look like a robbery."  
She clasped her hands. "If the intruder had the key that means...," she thought for a moment. "Oh Lord, it means they have him! They have him somewhere!" All of a sudden she stood. "Bruce, he must still be alive! There were men at the bus terminal waiting for me! Why would they be there unless Steven told them where he placed his backpack?" She dropped the backpack on the bench and eyed the helicopter. "Gregor must have him on the ship! Bruce, could you fly over Gregor's ship? It's called The Kraken! From the air we could see the best way to storm the ship! Do you know how to use a gun?" She pulled out her pistols and slipped them into the holsters.  
Bruce placed his hands on her shoulders. "We can't storm the ship."  
She pulled away and snarled, "If you don't want to be a part of this rescue operation, then... fine! I will do it alone, but I have to save him! I have to save my friend!" Her anger was held back, and she demanded, "I would like the use of the helicopter, if you don't mind!"  
"Lara, the ship is not in the harbor. It left yesterday. It's gone."  
His statement was like a cold knife into her heart. Her hands covered her eyes and she leaned against his chest.   
He wrapped a consoling arm around her.   
She lifted her head. "What about the vigilante, the Batman? I know he was doing an investigation. Maybe he found something. Is there any way we could contact him?"  
Bruce bit his lip, shrugged, and shook his head.  
"We know Gregor is involved. Isn't there anything we can do? Can't we stop him?" she said desperately.  
"There is no evidence that links Gregor to anything."  
Her eyes lit up. "You said someone ransacked Steven's apartment! They were looking for something! Steven sent me a locker key! That is what they were looking for! The evidence must be in Steven's backpack!"   
The backpack was unzipped and the contents emptied on the bench. Software manuals, notebooks, pens, pencils and a tape cartridge spilled out.   
Frantically Lara thumbed through the manuals and notebooks. "Why send anyone to watch the lockers unless they were concerned about the contents in this backpack! There's got to be something among these items!"  
Bruce came behind and held her arms. "Lara, please relax! We can examine them inside!"  
In frustration she pushed an arm out, and then sat motionless.   
Gently he coaxed her from the bench, and they slowly walked back inside.  
  
***  
  
The knee had swollen to twice its size. Steven struggled to sit up. Through agonizing pain, he pushed off the bed and stood in an one-legged position. His arm braced against the wall, and he hopped to the door. His head peeked into the hallway.  
Gears whirled and an occasional heavy thump sounded, but no voices were heard.  
He worked his way to a stairwell and clambered up the steps. Time moved slowly as he climbed to the top. Nervously panting, he wondered why no one was in the hallways. After stumbling towards a door, he pushed and stepped out to the main deck. His hands shielded the sunlight, and he observed the activity before him. The salty air from an ocean breeze rushed into his nostrils. His head snapped from a putrid smell.   
The ship's cranes whirled and their sound deafened the shouting of men. Cargo was hoisted from the side of the ship.  
Steven inched to the deck railing and looked over the side. He pinched his nose because of the stench.  
A tugboat and a couple of barges were anchored next to the ship. In the barges men were dressed in chemical suits and gas masks. They pulled crates from within the barge and loaded them on the cranes. Other men uncovered boxes beneath the garbage.  
"Steven! I'm so glad you could make it! I was wondering if you were ever going to come out of your cabin!"  
Steven pivoted and trembled.  
Elias Gregor approached with a goblet of red liquid in his hand. He leaned against the handrail. "Would you like some sherry?"  
Steven shook his head.  
"A beautiful day, don't you think?"  
"What's going on, Mr. Gregor?"  
"Taking in the hardware. Getting ready to deliver the goods." He sipped.  
A crane deposited a load of boxes inside the belly of the ship.  
"What's in the boxes?"  
"Assault rifles, grenades, automatic weapons,... munitions,... a few TOW missiles,... that sort of stuff. The necessities for a regular coup d'etat."  
"Who are these for?"  
"Sorry. If I told you, I would have to kill you." Gregor laughed at his own joke.  
Pain racked across Steven's faced. He held his knee and watched in silence.  
Gregor sipped and said, "I suppose you're wondering what is going to happen to you. Right now I am considering you as a bargaining chip."  
"For what?"  
"For Lara Croft. I want her to work for me, and, somehow, you are going to help," he sneered.  
"Lara will never work for you."  
"Oh, yes she will. I'm acquainted with a number of her enemies she has worked for. She has no scruples. No scruples at all. So why not work for me?" He sipped.  
"I don't think you know her well enough to say that."  
"Doesn't matter. You will convince her it is a great idea to work for me."  
"And what if I won't?"  
"Do you think you have any other choice in the matter?" He chuckled and sipped.  
Steven felt hollowness in the pit of his stomach. "What if I can't convince her?"  
Gregor leaned forward. "Then it would be most unpleasant for you. Voldo will see to that." He walked away and entered a nearby door.  
Steven slumped to the floor and covered his face.  
  
***  
  
In the library, Bruce flipped through a couple of pages in a notebook. A page was examined in greater detail, and then more pages were flipped.  
Alfred entered with a tray of refreshments. "I forgot to ask this morning if you had a proper night's rest. Did you sleep at all?"  
"Couple of hours."  
"Why not take the time to rest now? You have to attend the concert tonight with Miss Lara."  
"I'm not thinking about that now, Alfred. An important clue is in the contents of this backpack, and I need to find it." He placed a thumb and index finger on his chin. "How is Lara doing?"  
"Resting in her room. The mild sedative I slipped into her tea will keep her asleep for two hours."  
The tape cartridge was grabbed. "Let's see what is on this."  
They crossed the foyer, triggered the secret panel, and descended.  
Bruce went to the control panel. The cartridge was slotted into the computer's tape drive. A few keys were clicked and the main screen flickered. A list of files scrolled by and didn't stop until four minutes later.  
"A lot of files. It may take the computer a couple days to analyze and categorize them," Alfred murmured.  
A sad expression appeared on Bruce's face and his eyes drooped. He looked down. "Maybe I should take a nap after all." He clicked a few more keys. "I've set the computer to examine the tape for viruses, passwords, encrypted codes, and hidden files. After that, sort and analyze the files by date, starting with the last date of backup." He headed for the stairs.  
"Will you be going out for dinner?"  
"No. We will have a meal here, before the concert."  
  
***  
  
"The cellular phone customer has traveled beyond the service area..."  
Voldo closed the phone and huffed. He glanced at the eight men squeezed into the small cabin in the boat.  
One of them asked, "Is the mission still on?"  
"Gregor is too far to contact and is under radio silence. And that insect, Nat Gray, hasn't called."  
"Are you calling off the mission?"  
Voldo paused and thought. "I need three men for a separate mission."  
"For what reason?"  
"According to Gregor's commands, if this woman has any knowledge of what we are doing, then she must be captured. We are to bring her to Gregor."  
"Is this the same woman encountered at the bus terminal?"  
Another man spoke, "I will volunteer for this mission! I want another chance at the woman!"  
"She must be brought back to Gregor alive. Those are his orders," Voldo said.  
"How do you know this woman has knowledge of anything?"  
Voldo shrugged. "I don't know, yet she was at the bus terminal and fled. In my eyes, she is trouble. To Gregor, she is a challenge. He desires her." He selected three men for the new mission. "She stays at a place called Wayne Manor. You are to take her alive. Anybody else you encounter, execute them. I will show you on the map where this place is."  
  
***  
  
Part Six  
  
Bruce and Lara ate dinner but exchanged few words. Questions about the contents of Steven's backpack were met with laconic answers.  
"And the tape cartridge?" she asked.  
"Being analyzed."  
"By whom?"  
"An associate."  
"When will he have the results?"  
He shrugged. "It's a large tape."  
She finished the meal in silence.  
After dinner they strolled into the library.   
Bruce wandered about the books. He paced from one corner to the other and fingered a couple of books.   
Lara sat on the sofa and thumbed through a software manual. She recalled the chilled responses he gave at the dinner table and decided to break the ice. "I was thinking, when I left the garage this morning, I could not help but notice the helicopter."  
Bruce listened.  
"It was perched on the hill in the yard when I drove by on the bike this morning. When I returned in the afternoon, you were walking away from it. Now, Alfred said you were at a meeting--."  
"I told Alfred to say that. In truth, I was here and left after you did. Sorry if you were misled."  
She paused and blinked. "Bruce, please sit down."  
He sat in a reading chair.  
"I feel as if I have upset you in some fashion. The only thing I can think may have caused it was when I requested financial assistance from your foundation. I believe it was very awkward and bold to ask for a contribution, and I would like to rescind my request. I can handle my problems and I will get through this one as well. It wasn't proper to take advantage of your invitation, but like I said before, I acted defensively. I'm sorry that--."  
He waved his hand. "Don't do that, Lara. I told you it was good business, and I still want to help."  
She smiled briefly. "Why are you so sullen?"  
He glanced at the doorway and took a deep breath. "There are some burdens I carry that sometimes are reflected in my composure. I hope it won't interfere in the enjoyment of tonight's concert."  
She patted the empty spot on the sofa.   
He moved to the spot.   
She rested her head against his chest and hugged him.   
He placed his cheek on top of her head and hugged.  
"Excuse me, Master Bruce. I believe you should be getting ready for the concert."  
They both nodded and stood.  
"Go ahead and get ready, Lara. I want to speak with Alfred."  
She exited, glanced back at Bruce, and climbed the steps.  
"You have some good news, Alfred?"  
He whispered, "Incriminating evidence of money laundered through Gregor Shipping Company. The computer analyzed spreadsheets and their accounting software. Results were transactions of a dubious nature. If these were sent to the proper authorities, they would freeze the assets of Gregor, Inc., and a full investigation of their books would definitely be called for."  
"Great news, but it still doesn't tell me anything about the ship."  
"Patience, sir. The computer is still analyzing more files. I will keep you informed."  
Bruce patted him on the arm and went upstairs.  
  
***  
  
The Gotham Center for the Performing Arts was located a few blocks away from the Galleria. A simple, modern building and less ornate. Thin marble pillars stretched three stories over the glass entrances. The influential and upper class members of Gotham's elite filed into the doors. The crowd atmosphere was more subdued than at the Grand Opening of the Galleria, although a few social reporters milled about and tried to extract the juiciest of gossips.  
Bruce drove a black Maserati up to the valet attendant. The attendant took the keys, while another opened the passenger door for Lara. She waited at the curb and adjusted the hem. Her white gown, similar in style to the dark blue but without the slits for the legs, shimmered in the cool night air. Her back was covered with a white shawl, and she carried a white purse. The hair was braided in the usual style. Bruce wore his standard tuxedo. He extended a bent elbow, and she placed her hand inside.  
As they approached the entrance, a woman and a photographer intercepted them.  
"Bruce, dear, you look handsome as ever," the woman gushed, and kissed him on the cheek. "And who is this with you? Another movie starlet, I suppose?"  
"Gwendolyn, this is Dr. Lara Croft, a prominent archaeologist, and has an exhibit of her personal collection at the Galleria. Lara, this is Gwendolyn Brown, a columnist on the Gotham Weekly Review. She attends the social functions of Gotham's well known, and writes about it in the society page."  
"We're not the Gazette, but we try harder," she laughed. "My word, may I say you look fabulous in that dress. Can we get a quick picture of you two together?"  
Bruce hesitated, but Lara leaned into him and smiled. "Sure," he said. The camera bulb flashed.  
"That was great! So, Bruce, when is your next soiree at Wayne Manor?"  
"I haven't planned any parties because of the Exposition committee meetings. I've been busy, Gwen."  
"That's right, that's right. Oh... yes, Dr. Croft, now I remember. I heard some news about you and China... and strained relations between them and England. Would you like to comment on that?"  
"I'm sorry, no. I cannot comment."  
"Honey, are you sure? It would help with our circulation. Are you really sure about that?"  
"Yes, I am sure. I cannot comment on that."  
"Maybe another time, okay?" She turned to Bruce. "I see you have elevated to a new type of woman to date. She's beautiful, intelligent, and she can keep a secret."  
He blushed. "Excuse us, Gwen, but we have to go inside."  
"Of course you do, Bruce, of course you do. How silly of me to delay you. Go ahead and enjoy. Oh... one more thing, Dr. Croft. That reporter, Nathaniel Gray... the one you knocked down outside the Galleria. Did you hear the news? He was arrested this afternoon for indecent exposure in a park outside of the city."  
Lara's eyes sparkled. "No, I didn't."  
Bruce piped in, " We'll see you inside. Enjoy the concert."  
  
***  
  
During intermission in the concert hall, the cultured and wealthy mingled near the bar. The men's initial attention was focused on Lara. They gawked and snickered. A couple feinted boxing moves and shouted, "Come on, Dr. Croft. Let's see the famous left hook." They joked and jested, until a popular country singer was identified and their attention shifted. Lara smirked and walked away.  
Bruce escorted her back to the seats. "So what really happened in China?"  
She looked around to be sure no one else listened. "Let me say this, in my travels I have encountered things that are so deadly and horrendous, it would only benefit the world if they remained a secret. That is all I could tell you. I hope you understand. At times it is a burden for me to carry."  
"I'm not asking you to divulge everything, Lara. I was just curious to know the real story behind the explosion at the Great Wall."  
She looked around again. "If I answer your question, would you answer one for me?"  
"What is the question?"  
She shifted in the seat. "First, when you requested my friend's phone number for your investigator, you knew Steven's name. I don't recall ever telling you, or Alfred, his name before this morning. I find that puzzling. Second, during this afternoon when I hastily demanded you to fly over Gregor's ship, and mentioned the name of the ship, you said it left the harbor. You already knew the name of the ship! I remember only one other time I mentioned Steven's name and the ship's name. It was to another... 'gentleman'... who was doing an investigation. My question is, this... 'gentleman'... is he--."  
Bruce's cell phone rang.  
He held up his hands. "Hold that thought," and answered the phone.  
"Master Bruce, sir! Urgent news! Are you alone!"  
"Wait a moment." He turned to Lara. "I have to take this call. Excuse me. I'll be right back."   
He walked up the crowded aisle, through the immense lobby, and outside the entrance.  
"Okay, Alfred. What is it?"  
"The filter you needed for those recorded transmissions, I found it on the tape! I ran the program and fed the transmissions... Master Bruce, Gregor is selling weapons! The buyer intends to fund it by a robbery! They plan to burglarize the Galleria exhibits! Tonight!"  
"What time did they say?"  
"That wasn't discussed!"  
Bruce's jaw tensed as he gazed at the entrance door to the Center. His silence seemed like an eternity. He looked at the city skyline and straightened his back.  
"Alfred, I'll have to use the suit in the briefcase in my car."  
"Be careful, sir! That is not one of your better suits! And Miss Lara, what will become of her?"  
"I'll give her the valet ticket. She can drive the Maserati back home. Park the Bentley a block east of the Galleria. I'll meet you there. Notify the police before you leave." He closed the phone and rushed into the Center to his seat.   
"Lara, I have to leave. Here is the valet ticket. Drive home safely."  
"Bruce, what's going on? Where are you going?"  
"I'm sorry. I've got to go." He stepped back, and then walked away.  
She stood. "No! Don't go, Bruce! Don't do this to me!"  
He was half way up the aisle when she spoke.   
Her face turned red, and she felt like a hundred eyes were watching her reaction. She sat down quickly and fumed. "How could he leave me like that? How could he leave without an explanation?" she growled and looked up the aisle.  
The audience streamed in from the bar and lobby to their seats, but Bruce did not return.  
With extreme difficulty she wrestled with her anger, and convinced herself people were whispering how Bruce Wayne left her in a hurry.  
She vented, "This is the last time that moody rich man will leave me high and dry! I'll make him rue the day he met me!"  
The lights dimmed in the auditorium and slowly darkened.  
Lara leapt to her feet, strutted up the aisle and out into the lobby. An usher opened the main entrance for her. Outside, she marched to the nearest attendant and handed him the valet ticket.  
  
***  
  
Bathed in floodlights, the Galleria shimmered like a crystal. The security guard looked about the front, returned to the guardhouse, and viewed the monitor. The screen blinked, and then went black. He stepped out and saw the Galleria, and the neighborhood, enveloped in darkness. A cloth covered his mouth and nose, and he collapsed from the fumes.  
Five black-hooded men scrambled to the front door. One pulled out an Uzi and released a short blast to shatter the glass door. With flashlights waving, they raced down the long hallway to the exhibit rooms. Each entered a separate room and crashed through the displays. The glass casings were knocked over, the objects snatched and dumped into sacks.   
One of them shouted, "Ten seconds! Let's go, let's go, let's go!"  
They ran out of the rooms and down the short hallway to the nearest exit. Three black-hooded men gathered by the door.  
"Five seconds! Let's go, let's go!"  
They heard nothing, and looked at each other.   
One of the three peered around the corner and into the hallway to the exhibit rooms.  
The lights went on.  
His eyes widened, and he screamed, "A demon--."  
A hand grabbed his collar and flung him to the opposite wall. He crumbled on top of another black-hooded body.  
The other two jerked out their weapons. Before they could react, smoke pellets exploded in front of them. Frozen from fear, they swept the dense smoke with short blasts. Then they stopped and listened.  
One of them stepped towards the smoke. "I-I hear nothing."  
"We have to leave!"  
"What about the other--."  
Two hands lifted him into the smoke.  
The last black-hooded man jumped back to the exit door, released a short blast from his Uzi, and raced out into the street. He fired wildly behind, ran to a car, and drove away. Before the car left the block, he saw the flashing lights of a police car illuminated a dark figure outside the exit door.   
It watched him.   
"A demon!" he yelped and sped recklessly towards the harbor.  
The figure sprinted across the street and to the next block. At the street corner it looked up and down.  
The car wasn't there.  
A second passed, and lights appeared from a far corner. A car approached and stopped. The passenger door opened, and the dark figure entered.  
"Sorry I am late, sir."  
"Turn the lights off, Alfred." His teeth gritted.  
"Are you alright?"  
"A bullet grazed my ribs. It stings."  
Alfred pulled out the first aid kit from under the seat and handed over gauze pads, antiseptic, and bandages. "We'll dress that properly when we get back home."  
"Not yet. I've got to speak with Gordon." He opened the cell phone. "Commissioner! The usual place! One hour!" He closed the phone, leaned back, and rested.  
  
***  
  
Lara drove down the street towards Wayne Manor, and ranted. "I have never been so humiliated! This has never happened to me before! Never!"   
In her fury she recalled the many men she dated. Admirable men, military men, men with warrior spirits, explorers, adventurers, men with passion, scientists, professors, and businessmen. Dynamic, spirited, passionate, and loving warriors. Those are the ones she favored.   
Her mind churned as she remembered the men she wasted time with: sycophantic wimps, fawning students and associates, unemployed leeches, brawny leather clad bikers, and smug self-absorbed rich men. "I'll have to create a new category for Mr. Wayne! Rich, moody playboys!"  
She turned up the driveway and thought about Steven. "Where are you now, Steven. You were so sweet and kind." She pouted. "Maybe I should reconsider him. He is an aspiring businessman. I have to find him and make amends."  
As the car stopped in front of the door, three black-hooded men appeared. One flashed an Uzi.  
"Get out of the car!" he yelled.  
The car slipped into gear and fishtailed towards the front gate. The rear fender knocked over one of the men as it swerved. The others fired. The bullets bounced off the skin of the car but only penetrated the tires. The steering became sluggish and hard to turn. It skidded into a brushy area near the gate.  
Lara grabbed the gun from her purse. Shielded by the car, she fired a couple of rounds and knocked down one of them. More bullets ricocheted off the car, which made her duck. She flipped her high heels off and leapt through the bushes. The thorny limbs tore at her gown and made her stumble. With the hem held above the knees, she ran towards the darker foliage. Flashlights danced around her and made the gown glisten in the night.  
"There she is! Come on, let's get her!"  
'No chance hiding from them with this thing on,' she thought while running among the trees. She stopped behind a large tree and contemplated removing the gown. She hesitated. 'I have nothing other than a thong underneath this!' Her mind raced for other options. "I guess this isn't the time to be bashful," she said and began to pull up on the dress.   
Three flashlights blinded her.  
"Drop the gun!"  
The gown fell back onto her form, and the gun dropped at her feet. 'They must have bulletproof vests,' she thought while the flashlights came closer.  
A hand became visible and ripped the front of her dress.  
She flung a backfist across someone's head. The recipient toppled to the ground.  
A fist slammed into her gut.  
She doubled over and groaned.  
"What are you doing?" one of them exclaimed.  
"I wanted to see what she looked like... and have some fun."  
"We have no time for that! Bring her!"  
"But her dress is like a beacon."  
"We have a blanket in the car! Now tie her up and bring her!"  
Lara flailed weakly at her assailants but was pushed face down on the ground. Her wrists were forced behind her back and tied together. Another sat on her legs and tied her ankles.  
"What do you want with me?" she moaned.  
"Shut up." A hand covered her mouth with duct tape.  
She was hoisted to her feet, and the gown cascaded off her body.  
They argued.  
"I'm carrying her."  
"Hey, I'm carrying her! She shot at me! I should get some benefit for risking my neck!"  
"Shut up both of you! I confronted her at the bus terminal. I will carry her." She was lifted over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He slapped her bare bottom. "That's for flipping me over the railing."  
They laughed.  
Another spanked her. "That's for shooting at me."  
"And this is for knocking me over with the car." Her bottom was whacked hard.  
Lara writhed in pain and muffled a cry.  
"Enough already! We have a boat to catch."  
  
***  
  
Voldo placed a sealed aluminum tube within the cabin of the boat. He heard the pounding of footsteps, and climbed out.  
"We have to leave now! Hurry! We have to leave!"  
"Where are the others?"  
"We've got to go before it finds us! Hurry! Hurry!"  
Voldo gripped the man by the collar, slapped him to the deck floor, and yelled, "Where are the others? Where are the others?"  
The man wept uncontrollably. "A demon got them!"  
"What are you talking about?"  
"These pieces from the museum are cursed! When we touched them, a spirit was released, a demon from hell!"  
"Don't talk nonsense." Voldo opened the man's sack and pulled out a gold artifact.  
"It's true! I saw it with my own eyes! The demon will be after us!"  
"The demon should be the least of your problems as soon as Gregor and the General find out this mission has failed! What happened to them!" he fumed.  
"They were attacked by a creature! I saw its bloody hands drag one of them away! It's coming for us! We've got to leave! Now!"  
"Shut up, you stupid fool! We wait for the others!"  
A couple of minutes later a car stopped near the docks. Three black-hooded men climbed out. One carried a rolled up blanket over his shoulder with a head sticking out. The head bobbed with every movement.  
"We have completed our mission," they beamed and laid the blanket on the deck.  
Voldo knelt and examined their captive. He noticed her lack of clothing.  
Lara cringed and moaned.  
He questioned, "Did you harm her?"  
"She fought back so we did what was necessary to subdue her."  
"Did you take advantage of her? Did you have your way with her?" he grilled.  
The men looked at each other. "No, we did not!"  
"Good. I can tell Gregor she is undefiled by you. He would be glad, until I tell him our main mission has failed."  
"What happened to the others?"  
Voldo stood. "Ask your sniffling comrade in the corner!" He walked to the boat's controls. "Place her inside the cabin! We leave for the ship now!"  
  
***  
  
Gordon waited by a park bench outside the Gotham City Zoo. He paced and watched the dark areas around the street.  
"Commissioner Gordon."  
He whirled and saw Batman near the zoo gates. "I'm sorry for the delay, but I had to get more details from the burglary at the Galleria."  
"What do you have?" Batman asked.  
"Four men dressed in military outfits, protective vests, and with no identification. One found in an exhibit room, two in the hallway, and one near the exit door hall. They carried flashlights and burlap sacks. Two had Browning 9mm handguns; the others had Uzis with clips. Found two global positioning units among them. The Galleria, and neighborhood, lost power from a blown transformer. The front door is in pieces. Five exhibit rooms are in shambles. We contacted three of the five exhibitors to come down and give an inventory of what was in their rooms. I think we recovered most of the objects, but I need to be sure."  
"Who were you unable to contact?"  
"Dr. Lara Croft and Elias Gregor." Gordon stepped to the curb. "We also found the curator, Willard Slaughter, dead in his office."  
"How did he die?"  
"Strangulation. There was evidence of a struggle, but nothing else. However, we did find blood near the exit door. We believe a fifth member got away. Am I right?"  
Batman nodded. "But those men weren't there long enough to strangle Willard Slaughter. Do you know how long he was dead?"  
"Two hours at the most." Gordon looked up and down the street. "Come over here. I want to show you something." He opened the passenger door of his car.  
A portable tape player with monitor rested on the seat.   
"I confiscated the security tape made from the cameras in the rooms and hallway, for obvious reasons." He slotted the tape into the player, and they watched. Gordon pointed to a black and white picture in the lower corner of the screen. "This is when the power came back on. See the jump in time? That's you taking hold of a burglar before the area filled with smoke."  
Batman placed a fist under his chin. "Could you rewind the tape before the burglary?"  
Buttons were pressed on the player to rewind and pause. The screen was studied.  
"Now play the tape backwards until I tell you to stop."  
The rewind button was held down and the digital clock on the screen rolled back.  
"Stop." A gloved finger pointed to the upper left corner of the screen. "Camera one shows the interior of this exhibit room. Look at this picture frame hanging on the wall. You can see a slice of the painting within the frame. Play the tape."  
The play button was pressed.  
"Now look! The painting is no longer in the frame! And the clock has jumped three minutes! Thirty minutes later the burglars arrive and grab the objects in each room!"  
Gordon had a puzzled expression. "What does that mean?"  
"It means this exhibitor knew a burglary was going to occur and removed it... or had someone do it for him."  
"By Slaughter! He was the only other person to have access to the security room."  
"Slaughter removed the painting, went to the security room and erased the recording of himself by rewinding the tape. Then went to the office and handed the painting to..."  
Gordon flipped the pages of his notebook. "Elias Gregor's collection is in that exhibit room."  
"All the items are covered by his insurance. He hasn't lost anything if the burglary was successful."  
"Is this a hunch?"  
"It's more than a hunch, Commissioner. Do you have anything else?"  
Gordon flipped a couple of pages. "These numbers were found on a piece of paper in the pocket of one of the burglars. Do they look familiar to you?"  
"These look like longitude and latitude coordinates for the GPS units. Could be a rendezvous point. My guess would be somewhere out at sea."  
"You've been a tremendous help. I'll get an APB on Gregor. Then I'll get the Coast Guard to check on these coordinates to see if anything's out there." He closed the door. "One question, how did you know this was going down tonight?"  
Batman held out a small package. "Inside is a tape cartridge, a recordable CD, and notations on what files to look at on both media. The answer is there."  
Gordon took it. "You've done enough, my friend. Go get some sleep." He walked to the driver's door, heard the rustling of leaves, and looked around.  
Batman was gone.  
  
***  
  
Alfred was quiet on the way back to Wayne Manor. Peering at the rearview mirror he saw Bruce's eyes closed, and thought, 'He needs the rest. But what about Miss Lara? I hope she is not too upset with his actions.' He shook his head and frowned. "I'm afraid she will have every right to be upset."  
The Bentley turned into the driveway and stopped. The gates were partially opened. A few yards beyond, the Maserati rested on a slant next to the bushes.  
"Master Bruce, something is not right! Look!"  
Bruce jumped out of the car, ran to the Maserati, and examined it.  
Alfred stepped out and looked at the driveway. "Sir, there are shell casings up ahead."  
A flashlight was flicked on and a shell picked up. 'Uzis.' The light searched the bushes and found shimmering threads among the thorns.   
Bruce dashed towards the trees and located the glistening gown and a handgun.  
"Lara has been kidnapped, Alfred! I have to find her!"  
"Where do you think she was taken to?"  
"My guess is... a rendezvous point!"  
  
***  
  
Part Seven  
  
Lara was plopped on the cot of a small room within the ship. Wrapped in the blanket, she wiggled to a comfortable position. Tape still covered her mouth.  
The men stood and watched.  
"Do you think the demon will find us on the ship?" asked one.  
"Shut up about your demon! You want to frighten us?"  
"I know what I saw and I don't feel good about this."  
Another spoke, "Maybe she conjured up the demon when we grabbed her. She has been giving us an evil eye."  
"Don't be foolish, all of you! She has no special powers!" His face came close to hers. "She is just another weak woman."  
Her eyes narrowed and stared.  
Silence gripped the room.  
The man backed away slowly.  
Voldo entered. "Everyone, out of the room. Gregor is coming."  
The men exited.  
Gregor entered and grinned. "Voldo, my painting. Do you have it?"  
"Inside an aluminum tube placed in your cabin."  
"Did you give Mr. Slaughter his payment?"  
"Yes, I did."  
Gregor knelt next to the cot. "Lara, my dear, it is so good to see you again. How was your trip here? Oh, but where are my manners? Let me remove that from your lips." Gently he peeled the tape from her mouth.  
"Gregor, what do you want from me?"  
"What I have always wanted. You working for me."  
"You have a strange way of recruiting people for employment. Do you realize this is kidnapping?"  
"To you, it's kidnapping. To me, it's just an extension of our active recruitment policy."  
"You wouldn't want me as an employee. I don't take orders very well... and haven't you heard. My demon is coming for me!"  
"Oh please, Lara. Get serious. You've visited too many of your fans' websites. Demons, monsters, and witches, oh my." His eyes rolled. "If I believed all what they wrote about you, I'd guess you were Wonder Woman, Rambo, the Terminator, and a sex-starved nymphomaniac all rolled into one." He laughed.  
She winced in pain. "Gregor, these bindings are cutting the circulation to my hands."  
He looked at Voldo.  
Voldo shook his head.  
"My associate disagrees if I should allow you to roam freely aboard the ship. Maybe I can shackle you to the bed. That would ease your pain, and satisfy him." He unraveled the blanket and revealed Lara's bare top.  
"Where are her clothes?" he screamed. "Voldo, why doesn't she have any clothes?"  
Lara shook at the decibel level of his shouting.  
Gregor's sudden fury made Voldo's jaw tense. He held up his hands. "I assure you, she has not been touched! Please, come outside and I will explain."  
"You better have an excellent explanation for this!" Gregor stomped out of the room.  
Voldo closed his eyes and closed the door.  
Lara rested on her side and faced the wall. She struggled with the bindings but gained no relief.  
A minute passed, and the door opened.  
Steven hobbled into the room. "Lara, are you alright?"  
She cried, "Steven! What have they done to you?"  
"Please don't cry. Please. Don't cry." He limped to the cot and wiped a tear off her soft cheek.  
"I was so worried about you! What happened to your leg?"  
"Don't worry about me. You should be concerned about yourself." He grabbed his knee and exhaled. "Lara, I'm sorry I got you involved. Gregor is crazy. He wants me to convince you to work for him."  
"He's certainly not gaining any points by his methods."  
"Let me cover you up." With one hand he unbuttoned his sweat-stained shirt.  
"Don't worry about that. Untie my wrists. The bindings hurt so much."  
Steven covered her front and tugged at her wrists.  
The door swung opened and banged against the wall.  
"Get him!" Gregor ordered.  
Voldo rushed in and snared Steven with a rope.  
Lara bounced on the cot and yelled. "Leave him alone! Leave him alone!"  
"Steven, what did I tell you if Miss Croft was involved in all this?" he shouted.  
As Steven struggled with the rope around his neck, his face turned red. He sputtered, "Lara, save yourself!" He coughed, gasped for air, and then was dragged out of the room by Voldo.  
"What do you want? What do you want in exchange for Steven's life?"  
Gregor glared at her. "Fifteen million dollars!"  
She froze and furrowed her brow. "Fifteen million? Why?"  
"I've got supplies to deliver and no money to pay the supplier! I've got a financial mission that failed and four men from an elite group of an exiled general's army lost! Call it my bereavement settlement!"  
Her eyes lowered. "What do you want from me? What do you want me to do? I'll pay you the money! Just tell me what work you want done!"  
"Unless you have the money right now, there is nothing you can do!"  
She shrieked, "Gregor, I'm giving myself to you! Whatever you want from me, I'm yours! Just let Steven live!" She sat on the edge of the cot; arms behind her, bound feet touched the floor, and chest expanded with each gulp of air. The stained shirt and blanket barely covered her form.   
Gregor absorbed the view and paused. "Enticing... but too late."  
The door closed behind him.  
"You gain nothing by killing him! He is no threat to you! Let him live or I will get you, Gregor! I'll get you if it's the last thing I do!" Her screams rattled the door and shook the walls.  
  
***  
  
Adjoining Gregor's cabin was an office area of equal size. It had two small shelves of books and charts, three chairs, a table, and a desk.  
Gregor sat at the table and drummed his fingers. A yellow legal pad, with doodles and scribbles, rested in front of him. The word 'ransom' appeared a few times, and one with capital letters was boxed in. Question marks dotted the pad. On the edge was a drawing of a wide-eyed female with braided hair.  
Voldo entered, dropped a burlap sack on the table, and sat on the opposite side.  
"What's in the bag?" Gregor asked, but looked at the legal pad.  
"Golden artifacts from an exhibit room."  
He peeked inside, wrote some numbers on the pad, and shook his head. "We need to find some money, fast."  
"The captain said the General's submarine is approaching." Voldo folded his hands. "I see you have written 'ransom'. Will you be asking money for the woman?"  
"The problem is from whom."  
"What about her family?"  
"She is independent of her family's fortune. I believe she was disowned or cut-off from their support."  
"What about her sponsor for the exhibit, the Wayne Foundation?"  
"No! I wouldn't give that jerk, Bruce Wayne, the gratification of sending a ransom for her!"  
"Why are you so choosy? If he has the money, why not ask him?"  
"You don't understand, Voldo! I want the money now! An electronic transfer to my account now, with verification! Calling someone for a ransom would delay the transfer! Time would be needed for them to collect the money, arrange a drop off point... and they may delay for more time for whatever reason they'd think of. Meanwhile, I have a customer, who is anxious to initiate a coup, waiting for his supplies to be delivered, and every hour there is a delay he looses his window of opportunity... And suppose I request an electronic transfer from them... well, guess what! They'll know whose account it is and who kidnapped Miss Lara Croft!"  
Voldo opened his hands. "Who were you going to approach with the objects you had planned to obtain from the Galleria?"  
"Members I know on the black market."  
"Why not ask them? A woman with her fame must have a price on her head."  
Gregor's eyes grew wide. "What a delicious idea! In fact, we could auction her off to the highest bidder! Let me get in touch with Pakistan and tell our connection what we have to offer... And you know what? I'll have him contact some of her enemies as well! This is getting exciting!" He danced to his laptop. "Assemble the satellite dish outside the window!"  
"Porthole," Voldo snickered and exited.  
  
***  
  
Lara laid on her side and whimpered. Streaks of mascara marked the path of her tears.   
Two black-hooded men entered the room. One stood by the door with his arms crossed. The other walked to the cot, untied her wrists, and dropped a white shirt and slacks next to her head.   
"Get dressed!"  
She sat up, covered her breasts with the white garments, and gazed at the man near the cot. "May I have some privacy?"  
"Our orders are not to leave you alone."  
She put the large shirt on, rubbed her wrists, and untied her ankles. To regain circulation she waved her feet and shook her hands. The feeling of 'pins and needles' subsided.  
"Come on and hurry up. I got to put these things on you." He held out ankle-cuffs and handcuffs.  
The slacks were slipped on and fitted perfectly. The drawstring was pulled and tied. She faced the man with the cuffs, looked at the doorway, and snarled. "Oh, hello Gregor."  
The men turned and looked at an empty doorway.  
A straight right fist was delivered to the head of 'cuffs' man.  
He staggered backwards.  
A sidekick rammed into his gut.  
He flew into the man by the door, and they collapsed.  
Her foot crunched the chin of one, and a judo chop crashed on the neck of the other. Their bodies were searched for weapons. A handgun was found.  
She inched to the doorway and peered down the hallway.  
A sailor appeared with an object in his hand.  
The gun was drawn out and aimed.  
He darted into a room.  
In bare feet, she skipped up the hallway in the opposite direction. At a stairwell, she ascended cautiously to the top.  
Footsteps were heard at the bottom of the stairwell.  
She left the stairs, dashed down a hallway, and reached a door that led to the main deck. Gently the door was pushed open, and she peeked.  
A small congregation of sailors stood twenty yards away.  
She went to the opposite end of the hallway and reached another door. It led to a stairwell to the upper level and an outer door to the other side of the main deck. She opened the outer door and peeked.  
Another sailor appeared with an object in his hand. The object had a flashing red light.  
The gun was aimed.  
He ran around a corner.  
She closed the door and climbed the stairs. The stairs ended at a door to the ship's bridge. Through the glass she saw two men. One sat in the captain's chair. She burst into the room, and aimed at the man in the chair.  
Startled, they stood still.  
"Tell your mate to sit down!" she commanded.  
He waved to the other man to sit on the floor.  
With the barrel of the gun remaining on her target, she locked the door.  
Her target seemed unconcerned.  
The bridge was a long room with a fixed chair in the middle. A large window faced over the front of the ship. Below the window were the control panel of switches, knobs, gauges, and the ship's wheel. The other end of the bridge was another door leading to a stairwell to another upper level.  
Lara stepped behind the man in the chair and grabbed his collar. "I gather you are the captain. Where's the radio room?"  
"Next level up," he said in a matter-of-fact way.  
"I want to send a distress signal, so let's go! Show me where it is!"  
"I am sorry, Senorita, but I cannot do that."  
She growled, "Listen, sport, I am not in the mood for any arguments! Now we can do this together, or you and your mate will become spots on the wall before I leave! What will it be?"  
The captain replied, "I am so sorry but they will not allow me to do that." He pointed at the locked door.  
Lara saw Gregor, Voldo, and 'cuffs' man behind the glass. Outside the bridge window stood a sailor with a camcorder. The blinking red light indicated it was filming her and the captain.  
"What are you doing, Lara?" asked Gregor.  
She shouted, "Don't come in! Stay where you are!"  
"Oh please, Lara. We outnumber you. You can't escape." He snickered, "And where would you go? We are out at sea."  
She pushed on the neck of the captain until he bent over his knees, and aimed at the door. "I know where you are going, Gregor! To hell!"  
The gun fired.  
Gregor folded his arms behind the unbroken glass. "Blanks, Lara. They are all blanks," he sneered. "I needed footage for your upcoming auction. A little teaser to show prospects I have the genuine article, and what better way than by videotaping you in action."  
She fired two more times.  
He laughed and shook his head. "Give it up, Lara. You're not going to win."  
'Cuffs' man forced the door open and charged.  
She pushed the captain to the floor and stood behind the chair. The gun was thrown at the charging assailant.  
His forearm blocked his head and knocked down the gun. He reached over the chair and grabbed her shoulder.   
Pivoting backwards, she pulled his arm and flipped him on his back.  
Quickly he rolled over and placed his hands on the floor.  
A kick on the chin caused him to crumble.  
Lara whirled and lunged at Gregor.  
Voldo snared her in mid-flight, yanked a rope around her neck, and kept her off balance.  
With hands about the rope she struggled and stumbled.  
Voldo tugged until she fell to the floor.  
Her faced turned red, and she gasped for air.  
"Don't hurt her! I need her alive and presentable," commanded Gregor.  
Voldo took the handcuffs from 'cuffs' man's unconscious body. Her wrists were forced behind her back and cuffed. He lifted her up. "Don't try anything--."  
A crescent kick landed on the side of his head.  
Voldo tumbled sideways into the bridge's control panel.  
A back kick popped into Gregor's groin.  
Gregor doubled over and fell on his rear. He gulped for air.  
Swiftly she moved over Gregor and raised a leg to stomp on him.  
The captain tugged the rope.  
Lara fell on her back.  
The mate sat on her legs and the captain fastened the ankle-cuffs.  
She wiggled and yelled, "I'll get you, Gregor! I'll get you!"  
After she appeared to have settled the captain and mate stood and stepped away.  
Voldo lifted her up and tightly held the rope around her neck, and whispered, "Try anything like that again, and you will follow your friend into the ocean."  
Lara struggled for a moment until Gregor stood up. He was bent slightly forward.  
"Did you get all that on tape?" he asked.  
The sailor with the camcorder nodded.  
"Good. Take her to my room," he groaned.  
She was forced through the door and down the stairs.  
Gregor leaned against the wall and looked at the captain. "Thanks for your help."  
"Senor Gregor, I think she will be trouble for you."  
"I love a challenge." He smiled and turned to leave.  
"Senor, a party from the submarine has boarded, but another boat is approaching the ship."  
"How big is it?"  
"The size of a powerboat."  
"Maybe the General's men have escaped and found a way to get here," Gregor wondered. "Captain, it could be nothing but have some of your men investigate it. I'll be in my room."  
  
***  
  
A tall, stout, dark man, with glittering ribbons and medals on his uniform, approached Gregor and extended his hand. His spectacles glinted the light from the hallway.  
"Welcome aboard, General," Gregor shook his hand.  
"Am I getting my weapons, Gregor?" he harrumphed.  
"Wait until you see how you're going to purchase them." Gregor walked gingerly down the hall.  
"What's wrong with your back?"  
Gregor ignored the question and opened the door to his cabin.  
The General entered and saw Lara on the bed.  
She stood and greeted. "General Nyonga."  
"And who may you be that requires these bracelets for restraining?"  
"Lara Croft. I would have greeted in a manner you deserve had I not been restrained and tethered to the bedframe."  
"From your tone I gather you are not a fan of mine."  
"Not for a professional butcher. You were exiled from the Kingdom of Lesotho for your barbarianism, and you vowed to return in triumph."  
"And that will happen! I plan to remove the monarchy, and his established government, renew the name Basutoland and control it as president-for-life."  
"South Africa will not allow it! They consider you a villain and an enemy of the state! You will not be able to reach Lesotho without a confrontation with them!"  
"There are factions in South Africa loyal to me. I am not worried about that." He turned to Gregor. "Why am I talking to this woman about these things?"  
"General, this woman is the ticket to your weapon supplies, and more! She is a world famous archaeologist and adventurer. Because of her notoriety, she is worth a lot of money. I contacted a list of her enemies and plan to auction her off to the highest bidder. Come over to my office--."  
"What happened to the original mission you had planned? The burglary of the exhibits at the Galleria?"  
"Bottom line... it failed... but this is a better idea! Look over here. I've contacted my man in Pakistan." Gregor moved to the office and opened his laptop. "Ravi, how are we doing?"  
A thin dark skinned man with short black hair appeared on the screen. "Stalled at twelve million. They are skeptical you actually have her in your possession. Did you send the movie clips?"  
"Sent an e-mail with a list of attachments fifteen minutes ago. Who has the highest bid?"  
"Sheik Marouk al-Khalid from Oman... but the kingdoms from Southeast Asia just got involved. They are waiting for proof you have her before they bid."  
"What about Saddam, the wacky Iraqi?"  
"He doesn't want to get involved. He can handle the United States attacking his country, but he wants no confrontation with Lara Croft. He said that would be the mother of all battles. However, he did forward his business card if we were interested in chemical weapons at a bargain price."  
Gregor chuckled. "Ravi, let the potential buyers know if they want live pictures, I'll get it for them, but nothing kinky. Check back with you in thirty minutes."  
General Nyonga gazed at Lara. "I fail to see how she could be worth that much. What about the original mission? And where are my men?"  
"Like I said, the mission failed... and only two of your men are functional--."  
The captain of the ship entered, "I need a cache of your weapons to give to my men!"  
Puzzled, Gregor asked, "What's the problem?"  
"Senor, three men investigated the approaching boat but did not report back. I directed two more men to find where they are. They do not respond to my page and have also disappeared. Now the rumor has spread among my men that this woman has conjured a demon and it is taking revenge on us. Half of them want to abandon ship."  
"That's ridiculous! Whoever heard of a demon operating a boat?"  
"It's not as strange as you may think, Gregor. I have encountered stranger things in my travels," needled Lara. She turned and looked through the porthole.  
"Who started this rumor about a demon?" demanded General Nyonga.  
"You better speak with your two men, General. I don't know the full story, but it is only a minor annoyance and will not interfere with our plans. With the captain's men armed, they will be able to flush out whatever it is on board." He spoke to the captain. "Arm half your men with handguns. The crates are in the first cargo hold. Tell them to be careful."  
The captain nodded and exited.  
"I want to have a briefing with my men."  
"They should be in the mess hall on the next level down," Gregor replied.  
"I will return to see how the auction is proceeding." The General exited.  
Gregor gently closed the door and stepped towards Lara. "Finally, we are alone."  
"Keep your distance," she snarled.  
"Really, Lara, is that any way to treat your host? After all I have done for you?"  
She roared, "What you have done for me? You kidnapped me! You murdered my friend! Now you are selling me like a slave to the highest bidder! I am supposed to be grateful for all that? You are completely mad!"  
"You must understand that was all business and nothing personal. We can still have a relationship. Besides, I kept you alive. Why aren't you thankful for that?"  
"You are daft! You are out of your mind! You had your opportunity! I offered myself for Steven's life! Now you think I can have a relationship with you? Get away from me!"  
Gregor grabbed her shoulders. "You've got to understand! That was business! I still want you--."  
Lara butted her head on his chin.  
He winced in pain and staggered back. Blood dripped from his lower lip. He placed a handkerchief on his lip and saw the stain. His jaw tightened.  
"Nothing personal!" she quipped.  
He rushed towards her and pushed her on the bed.  
Her legs were brought up and shoved him across the room.  
He bounced off the wall and fell near the aluminum tube. When he stood the tube was in his hand and he began to swing.  
She flinched and shielded her face with a shoulder.  
In mid-swing he dropped the tube, grabbed her head, and forced a kiss on her lips. After he stopped, she spat on his face.   
"Don't you ever touch me again!" she yelled.  
He wiped the spittle from his face. "You are in no position to reject my advances."  
"Go to hell!"  
"Eventually you will see it my way, Lara. Your fate is in my hands, and that is something you will appreciate." He opened the door and looked down the hallway. "Voldo, watch her until I return."  
After Gregor left, Voldo entered. He placed the aluminum tube in the office and stood by the bed. "Who did you give the tape cartridge to?" he asked.  
She sat up and looked away.  
"It doesn't really matter now. I just want to know who confounded our mission at the Galleria."  
"You heard the rumor. It was a demon."  
He glared at her. "Listen to me. I do not believe in demons or monsters. I deal with facts. Fact is you got away with the only evidence to stop us. Now, whomever you gave it to somehow deciphered it and acted. So... who did you give it to?"  
Her eyes lost focus and her vision drifted to the floor. She appeared deep in thought. Then she glanced at Voldo, and looked out the porthole.  
  
***  
  
Two sailors stalked the hallways. One was armed with a gun, held up and ready. The other carried a crowbar and nervously looked ahead and behind. At a corner they turned towards the hallway that led to the engine room. They noticed smoke floating from a corner before the engine room door.  
"Looks like a fire, Flaco. Go back and get the fire extinguisher."  
Flaco dropped the crowbar, scurried around the corner they had turned, and lifted the extinguisher. He ran back, but found the hallway empty.   
More smoke came towards him.  
"Gordo? Where are you, man?" He peered into the smoke but the filtered light was getting more obscured. "Come on, Gordo. This is not funny, man." He took one step towards the smoke.  
A dark shadow materialized.  
"Gordo? Is that you?" When no answer came, he walked backwards.  
The figured lurched at him from out of the smoke.  
"Dios mio!" he screamed, dropped the extinguisher, and bolted for the corner.   
A flying crowbar knocked him down.  
The dark figure grabbed and dragged the bodies of Flaco and Gordo into the engine room.  
  
***  
  
"So, Ravi. What are the numbers now?" asked Gregor. Voldo and General Nyonga watched over his shoulders.  
"A few moments ago it barely reached fourteen million, but with the movie clips the bid has been in a frenzy. The Sultan of Bruchei and Sheik Marouk have escalated the price to nineteen million."  
They smiled at each other. The General patted Gregor's shoulders.  
"Who offered nineteen million?"  
"The Sultan... wait, wait! Sheik Marouk has offered twenty-two million!"  
The General whispered, "We should close this now!"  
"Couple more minutes. Let's see if the Sultan has a counter offer."  
"Gregor, I'm waiting for the Sultan to respond... and it doesn't look... wait a minute! He has offered twenty-two and a half million!"  
Gregor chuckled and rubbed his hands. Voldo peeked at Lara. She sat on the bed and looked at the floor.  
"Ravi, tell them we are going to close the bidding--."  
"Hold on, hold on... twenty-six million from Sheik Marouk!"  
"Unbelievable!" Gregor grinned. "Any response from the Sultan?"  
Ravi paused. "I think that's it for him... yes, he hasn't responded. That's it for him."  
"Tell the Sheik to wire half the amount to my private account. The other half can be sent when we deliver. See you in a few days."  
"Sheik Marouk wants to talk with you before he does all that."  
"Tell him I will call in an hour."  
General Nyonga praised, "Gregor, your innovation and quick thinking has astounded me! How did you know she would command such a price?"  
He raised his hands and smiled. "What can I say? I'm Elias Gregor! I'm the best there is!"  
They all laughed and shook hands.  
Gregor motioned to the door. "Come on, gentlemen. Let's celebrate with a bottle of sherry."  
The General looked at Lara. "Well, my dear, I may not know much about you, but one thing is for sure, I certainly am glad I met you."  
"Better learn my name well, General Nyonga. This will not be the last time we meet," she said.  
"Oh, Miss Croft, I already know enough to serve my purpose, and I am quite satisfied with that," he laughed.  
Again they congratulated each other as they moved towards the door.  
The power went out and the emergency lights illuminated the hallway.  
"What's going on?"  
Gregor looked about. "I don't know. Let's find out from the captain."  
They closed the door and left Lara in the dark room.  
  
***  
  
Part Eight  
  
The captain and his first mate were on the bridge. They handed out flashlights and lanterns to eight sailors.  
"Four of you go to the engine room and find out what happened. Take this walkie-talkie and use it. You four find the others, give out these flashlights, and continue searching."  
"Capitan, we should abandon the ship! We cannot fight this demon!"  
"Shut up and go! That's an order!"  
Gregor, Voldo, and General Nyonga entered.  
"What happened?" Gregor demanded.  
"I don't know, Senor. I have sent men to the engine room. They will tell me if there is damage and if it can be repaired. Meanwhile we found four men unconscious in a storage room. If we don't find this... thing on board soon, then there will not be enough men to operate the ship."  
"Enough! I will find this thing and show it is made of flesh and blood!" Voldo exclaimed. He grabbed a lantern and stomped out.  
The General turned to Gregor. "Where did you find your associate?"  
"My father brought him home one day when I was ten. He is my half-brother, my father said. Didn't explain anymore than that. Voldo was thirteen. During high school he was my bodyguard, protected me from bullies... and it grew from there."  
"You are fortunate to have him--."  
The captain interrupted in haste. "Senores, my radio man said another boat is approaching!"  
"Did he say who it was?"  
"The Coast Guard! They will be here in half an hour!"  
Gregor turned white and raced out the door.  
  
***  
  
In the obscured mess hall, two dark-hooded men munched on a meal by flashlight. They mumbled a few things to themselves as they sat and ate. One raised his head and noticed the doorway overshadowed by someone. "What happened to the lights?" he asked.  
No reply, and no other noise was heard but the grinding of food in their mouths.  
"Hey, do you understand me? The lights? La luz?"   
A flashlight was shone on the figure.  
He jumped from his seat and shouted, "The demon!"  
Before the other seated man could react, two hands lifted him from behind and threw him on the table. He bounced and landed on the floor.  
The frightened man scrambled to the wall and drew his gun.  
A thrown object knocked the gun from his hand, and a fist rocked his jaw. Hands grabbed him by the collar and pulled him from his knees to his feet.  
A deep voice asked, "Where's the lady?"  
Features could not be seen within the dark shadows, but the man felt the rapid breathing, and panicked. "Please have mercy! I didn't touch her! I didn't touch her!"  
The grip tightened. "Where is she?"  
"She is on the next level up, in Gregor's room!"  
Another fist knocked him unconscious.  
  
***  
  
"General, help me with this crate to the main deck," Gregor pleaded.  
General Nyonga pushed the handcart while Gregor guided it over the doorway and the uneven deck. They stopped near the edge and forced the crate open.  
A tripod was assembled.  
"I suggest you get yourself and your men off the ship, General. One thing the Coast Guard doesn't like to see is a Russian-style submarine close to the coastline."  
"What is it you are putting together?"  
Gregor grunted and lifted an optical sight sensor assembly. "The TOW missile launcher. It's used to decimate armor tanks. Let's see how the hull of a Coast Guard cutter stands up to it."  
"Why don't we lure them in and capture them? I will get extra men to help!"  
"Too much baggage. As soon as they see the sub, they will call for extra firepower. My plan is to sink them before that happens. It would buy us time until the engine room is repaired."  
"Let us all leave on the submarine. We can always find another supplier. What you are doing now is madness!"  
Gregor secured the launching tube and connected the cable from the guidance system case. "I'm protecting our investment, General. What you could do is take our lovely guest to the submarine as well. Remember, she is worth twenty-six million."  
General Nyonga walked backwards and watched him fiddle with some dials and flick some switches.  
  
***  
  
Lara tried to rest on the bed but her eyes stayed open in the dark room. She tried to imagine what might be the cause of the thumps on the main deck. The room became cold, and she shivered.  
The door opened.  
She sat up, but the door closed before she looked.  
It was dark again.  
She sensed someone else in the room. "Who is there?"  
"Quiet," a deep voiced replied.  
"Tell me who you are or I'll scream my bloody head off!"  
"Are you alright?"  
Lara paused. "Who are you?"  
A flashlight blinded her and made her head turn away.  
"Let me get those cuffs off you. Don't move."  
She heard the sound of a torch and smelled the heat of cut metal. With her hands free, she turned around. The blue flame of the small acetylene torch cut threw the ankle-cuffs and illuminated the cape, cowl, and elongated ears of Batman.   
"How did you know where to find me?"  
"Stay where you are! Someone is coming!"  
He darted into the office. She crossed her hands behind her.  
The door opened.  
General Nyonga raised the lantern. "Well, Miss Croft, it appears you and I will be traveling together. Maybe we can get to know each other better."  
"Keep your distance if you know what's good for you."  
"But, my dear, nobody is here, and nobody is going to stop me." He licked his lips.  
"Except him." She looked at the office doorway.  
He followed her eyes to a figure standing nearby. "Wha-what are you?" he said in shock.  
"Good night, General," Batman responded.  
A knockout punch twirled General Nyonga about and he fell into the corner.  
Lara grabbed the pistol from the unconscious body.  
"Leave the gun behind," Batman said and checked the hallway.  
"Right," she replied, stuffed the pistol in the small of her back, and followed.  
  
***  
  
The captain sat in his chair on the bridge and held the walkie-talkie to his ear.  
"Capitan, there is not much damage done. The engines could be started in an hour, but everything else may need more time."  
"Do what you can."  
"We found Tito, Flaco, and Gordo in a corner. They look roughed up and out of it."  
"Get them out of there, and keep me informed."  
The first mate entered. "Capitan, the radio man said the Coast Guard has hailed us down and wants a response to their message."  
The captain sighed. "Tell him not to respond and maintain radio silence until further notice." He leaned on the armrest and looked at the dark sea.  
"Si, Capitan." The first mate left.  
The lights of the approaching Coast Guard cutter came into view. Searchlights scanned up and down The Kraken. A loudspeaker bellowed, "Stand down and prepare to be boarded!"  
The captain passed a hand over his face, scratched his unshaven jaw, and rose from the chair.  
A whoosh sounded and an explosion shocked the ship.  
He jumped to the bridge window.  
Fire was on the Coast Guard cutter. Another whoosh sounded and a second explosion ripped it in half.  
The first mate entered.  
"Who is attacking the Coast Guard?" the captain bellowed.  
"I don't know, Capitan. The radio man said the Coast Guard sent a distress signal and radioed they were fired upon!"  
"Dios mio!" The captain took in a heavy breath. "Tell everyone to abandon ship! Get to the lifeboats now!" He ran out of the bridge and searched the main deck.  
Gregor stood next to a tripod and raised his arms in victory.  
"Senor, what do you think you are doing?" the captain shouted. "You were to advise me when action like this was going to be taken! Now you have placed our lives in jeopardy!"  
"I was buying you time to repair the engines."  
"You have bought us our death! At this moment, Navy warplanes are ready to take off! In fifteen minutes they will arrive and destroy both the submarine and this ship! We are abandoning the ship now! Get to a lifeboat!"  
"No, no, wait! I must get some things from my cabin! It will take a moment!" He went towards the door.  
The captain shook his head and went the opposite direction.  
  
***  
  
Lara and Batman raced through the catacombs of the ship. They scurried down the halls and paused when noises were heard ahead. From one level to the next lower level they rushed until the access door to the boat launch was finally reached.   
The door was locked.  
They struggled to open it, but it did not budge.  
"Don't waste your effort! It won't open for you," Voldo exclaimed and pointed a gun at Batman.  
They raised their hands.  
"I don't know who you are, Mr. Caped Man, but I know you are no demon. Turn around and face the wall! And you, woman, lay face down on the floor!"  
Batman placed his hands on the wall. Lara laid down on the floor and watched where Voldo stood.  
Voldo looped a rope around Batman's neck and tightened. "I know you fouled our mission at the Galleria. And I know you were at the cocaine bust weeks ago. Who are you and who do you work for?" He gritted his teeth and pulled hard.  
Batman grasped and strained at the rope. He fell to one knee.  
Voldo placed a foot on Batman's back and yanked. "Who are you?"  
Lara whipped the gun from her back and rolled over. "He's my demon!" she shouted, and fired two shots at Voldo's head.  
He staggered and flopped to the floor. Blood spilled in rivulets and pooled next to his head.  
Lara stood up and helped Batman to his feet. The rope was unraveled, and he rubbed his neck. "I told you to leave the gun behind."  
"I thought you were kidding."  
He frowned. "We've got to find another way out. Let's go to the main deck."  
  
***  
  
Gregor entered his room and went to the office. He picked up the aluminum tube, the bag of artifacts, and his laptop.  
A groan came from the other room.   
He aimed his flashlight. "General, what happened? Where's Lara?"  
"She escaped. She was assisted by a masked man." He stood up and wobbled. "Where's my men?"  
"We have to abandon ship. Come on, we need to get on a lifeboat."  
"I want to go back to the sub... And what about the girl?"  
"She couldn't have gone far. Voldo will find her."  
General Nyonga checked his holster. "They have my pistol!"  
Gregor paused. "We better get off the ship."  
They ran down the hallway and onto the main deck.  
The lifeboats were already hoisted over the side and in different stages of being lowered, except for one. The captain of The Kraken and a few of his men were stationed next to it. He motioned to them to hurry. They all climbed in and lowered it.  
Minutes later Lara and Batman reached the main deck. The moonlight allowed them to see the deck was empty and the lifeboats were gone. They ran to a railing and saw the boats had reached the water. The sailors rowed away from the ship.  
Lara raced to the other side and looked.  
Gregor was halfway to the water. He looked up and smiled. "So long, Lara. Sorry it has to end this way. Maybe under different circumstances it would have worked out, you and me. My advice is to don't give up hope, but right now I have to go. Adieu, my sweet, adieu."  
She pulled out the pistol and aimed. "Gregor! This is for Steven!" As the trigger was squeezed, her arm was forced up and the shot went in the air. The pistol was wrenched from her hand and thrown on deck.   
"What are you doing?" she snapped.  
"I want him alive," Batman said.  
"I want him dead!"  
"That is not how justice is served!"  
"That is how my justice is served!" she snarled.  
He glared at Lara and pulled out a bat-arang with twine. With one toss Gregor was roped and plucked from the lifeboat.  
Gregor wiggled and kicked as he banged against the hull of the ship. "General, help me! Get your men and help me!"  
General Nyonga barked orders to an officer on the conning tower of the sub. Immediately men appeared on the tower and fired at Batman.  
Batman laid down and gripped the twine. He looked about to find a place to secure his end of the rope when he noticed Lara dragging a tripod with a missile launcher.  
Away from the action, she aimed the launcher at the tower and fired.   
The missile blew out a large hole, and the men scurried back inside.  
General Nyonga had approached an entrance portal to the sub, turned, and yelled at Lara. He waved his fist wildly and screeched at the top of his lungs, but the roar of jet planes drowned his voice.  
Lara blew him a kiss goodbye and watched the submarine slowly move away. Fire and sparks leapt out of the hole in the tower.  
Batman lowered the twine until Gregor's feet broke the water. He opened a transmitter with a mini-joystick. A powerboat lit up and was maneuvered close to the ship, next to Gregor.   
"We have to leave! Those jets mean business!"  
She ran towards him, while a grappling hook was fastened to the railing.  
"Hold on to me," he commanded and placed an arm around her waist.  
Her arms locked around his neck.  
They descended quickly and landed in the middle of the powerboat's deck.  
Batman pulled Gregor in and dumped him on the deck. Then he jumped to the boat's controls and gunned the engines to full throttle. The powerboat shuddered and roared. A rooster tail of water sprayed in the air as they scooted away from the ship.  
Seconds later two laser guided missiles screamed towards the ship and rammed into its side. A thunderous explosion ripped its interior. Fire and a plume of smoke rose to the sky, and metal debris scattered everywhere.  
Lara and Gregor watched in horror as minor explosions rocked the ship. Lara got a better view of the submarine as the powerboat moved away from the burning ship.  
The jets made passes over the submarine, but did not fire a missile. Men were standing on top, shooting flares in the sky and waving white flags, when the jets soared over.  
Batman handed her handcuffs. "Fasten Gregor to that rail."  
Gregor was pushed into a seat and an arm was twisted. As the handcuffs locked in place, Lara frowned.  
"You're hurting me, Lara," Gregor responded meekly.  
She slapped him across the face.  
He tumbled to the floor.  
With his collar gripped in her hand, she shouted, "I want to see you dead, Gregor! So help me, that day will come!" She raised a fist to strike.   
"Stop!"  
She released her grip and looked at Batman. "Why didn't you let me shoot him? The world would be better without him!"  
"You are not the judge and jury. If you had killed him, you would have brought yourself to his level and become no better than what he is right now."  
"He's a murderer! He killed my friend!"  
"What you are asking for is vengeance, not justice. He will pay for his crimes, and he will pay for the death of your friend."  
"What makes you think that will happen?" she argued.  
"I'll stake my life on it!" he replied.  
Lara took a deep breath. "How can I trust your word. I have never met anyone like you. I don't know who you are." She stepped closer. "Who are you, really?"  
He looked at Gregor, and then gazed into Lara's eyes. "I am The Batman of Gotham City."  
Her shoulders drooped. Her eyes wandered down his mask, to his flowing cape, and to the boat's wake. The hours of staying alert caught up to her. Fatigued, she stared without expression at Gregor.  
"Go inside and rest in the cabin," insisted Batman.  
"I don't think I could sleep."  
"Try to rest."  
She nodded and stepped inside.  
Gregor watched and listened to their conversation. He sat on the floor and was still. "You are an intriguing character, Mr. Batman. Who do you work for?"  
Batman looked straight ahead.  
"Whoever it is, I'll pay twice the amount. What do you say to that?"  
"You have nothing to offer me."  
"Oh, no? Do you realize I can get twenty-six million dollars for Lara Croft? It could be all yours!"  
"Lara Croft is priceless, and is owned by no one. At least, not by you."  
Gregor grumbled, "You honorable guys make me sick."  
  
***  
The sun broke the horizon when the powerboat reached Gotham's harbor. The mist on the water concealed their approach to the pier.   
Wrapped in a blanket, and unable to sleep, Lara popped her head from the cabin and looked forward.  
On the dock were patrol cars and emergency vehicles. Their flashing red and white strobe lights jabbed into her eyes. Commissioner Gordon stood with several officers on the edge of the pier.   
They climbed into the boat and lifted Gregor out.  
"Consider yourself under arrest, Mr. Gregor," Gordon said.  
Gregor snapped, "I want my lawyer."  
"You better have an army of lawyers after you see the charges against you. Take him away, boys, and read him his rights."  
Lara stumbled out of the boat. "Commissioner, make sure one of the charges is for..." she sniffled and began to weep, "... is for the murder..." streams of tears flowed, "... of Steven Lancaster." She collapsed in front of him.  
Gordon caught her before she hit the ground. He yelled to an officer, "I need a stretcher over here!"  
Two emergency attendants rushed over. They wrapped and secured her in the stretcher.  
Gordon knelt and wiped her tears with a handkerchief. "Don't worry, Dr. Croft. They are going to take you to the hospital and have you checked out. It's just a precaution and part of procedure. Just relax."  
She nodded, looked at Batman and waved while she was lifted and carried away.  
Gordon faced Batman. "I shouldn't be surprised at the hour of the night whenever you call, especially when requesting emergency vehicles to meet you at the docks. Just to let you know rescue boats and helicopters were dispatched after the Coast Guard's distress signal. We'll be busy here all morning sorting this out."  
"I'll see you tonight for a briefing, Commissioner."  
"Same time, same place?"  
"Yes," he replied.  
"One question. Do you ever sleep?"  
Batman smirked.   
The powerboat sped around and disappeared in the harbor's mist.  
  
***  
  
At the hospital, Lara was examined, fed, and allowed to sleep in a private room. When she awoke early afternoon, Commissioner Gordon arrived and took her statement. He sat on the bed while they conversed.  
"How are you feeling now?" he asked.  
"Stronger, thank you very much."  
"You realize Gregor's trial will occur months from now. I want you to stay in touch and be available for any preliminary hearings. The district attorney said the charges against him are mounting, and they include tax evasion, racketeering, kidnapping, and murder."  
"Yes, of course... I want to thank you again for your kindness and everything you've done."  
He patted her hand. "Anytime, Dr. Croft, but I'm not the one you should be thanking."  
"Well... when you see him again, would you thank him for me?"  
He smiled. "Yeah, I'll do that for you."  
The door opened and a head peered in. "How are you feeling, Miss Lara?"  
"Alfred, please come in. I'm feeling better, thank you."  
"Let me excuse myself, Dr. Croft. Take care of yourself." Gordon stood and left the room.  
"Goodbye, Commissioner."  
Alfred entered with a suitcase and a bouquet of flowers. "I took the liberty of bringing your clothing and toiletries, in case you needed them. These flowers are for you." He laid the flowers on her lap and placed the suitcase on the credenza opposite the bed.  
"Thank you, Alfred." She opened the card attached to the flowers. The card was read, ripped, and the flowers thrown on the floor.  
Alfred noticed her folded arms and tightened jaw. He kept silent while she looked at the flowers.  
Seconds passed without a word.  
Lara spoke. "May I have some privacy, please. I would like to freshen up."  
"Certainly, Miss Lara. The doctor had said you could be released anytime you wished. I will wait outside the door. By the way, your personal secretary, Connie, called and needed to speak with you right away. In fact she stressed it to be extremely urgent." He left the room.  
She grabbed the phone and dialed. "Hello, Connie. It's Lara. I got your message. What is it that is so urgent?"  
Lara listened for awhile. She looked about the room and frowned a couple of times.  
"Connie, let me see if I heard you straight. The Prime Minister wants to see me, in person, even after reading the report. What does he want to ask?"   
She sighed and listened.  
"Well, he is not getting any names from me. So, in my opinion, the whole meeting would be futile... Alright, alright. Don't stress yourself about it. I'll try to make the next commercial flight out... Well, tell the Prime Minister I will see him tomorrow, late afternoon... Right... See you tomorrow, Connie. Good day."  
  
***  
  
The quiet ride from the hospital was laced with tension. Alfred drove and watched Lara's expression in the rearview mirror. Wearing rose colored glasses she stared at the window. The car approached the gates of Wayne Manor.  
"Do you know what flight you will be taking to London?"  
"No. I just need a ride to the airport. That can be sorted out when I get there."  
The car stopped at the main door.  
Lara took a deep breath and stepped out. "It should only take a moment to collect my things. I'll be right back."   
She marched through the foyer, up the stairs, and into the room. Clothes were gathered quickly and placed into a suitcase. She grabbed the briefcase, left the room, and strode towards the stairs. At the top, she paused.  
Bruce waited at the bottom. "Where are you going?"  
She descended. "I have urgent business with the Prime Minister. I have to travel to London tonight."  
"Still this business with China and the Great Wall?"  
She ignored his question and walked by him.  
"When will you return?"  
She dropped her luggage, whirled about, and slapped his face. The sound thundered in the foyer.  
"How could you! How could you leave me like that!" Her voice tilted on the edge of rage. "I have never been so humiliated in all my life! No one has ever left me in the middle of a date! No one!"  
Bruce lowered his head.  
"You left me alone! Completely alone! Do you realize what I just went through because of what you did? I was kidnapped! I was stripped of my clothing and dignity! Then I was auctioned as a slave! And throughout it all, I suffered the loss of a friend! What reason did you have to leave me alone?"  
He stuttered. "I-I am very sorry, Lara. I didn't mean--."  
"Your sorry will not buy any sympathy, Mr. Wayne, without an explanation!" She folded her arms and glared.  
He shifted in silence.  
"Nothing? You have nothing to say?" She spun around and picked up the luggage.  
He stammered, "I still want to help you with your present situation."  
She looked over her shoulder. "I appreciate the foundation's sponsorship and for paying my expenses, but I can handle my own problems. If there is a need for the foundation's assistance, then I will call. From now on, our relationship will be confined to a business level only! Good day, Mr. Wayne!"  
He followed her to the door and pleaded, "Lara, please, please believe me. I am truly, truly sorry about your friend. I will arrange a memorial service for him. Please forgive my behavior."  
Lara looked at Bruce as he stood by the entrance. His sad expression was exactly the same as the picture of the little boy who stood over his dead parents. A picture imprinted in her brain and never could be forgotten. She closed her eyes. "I am sorry it is ending this way, but I have to leave. Excuse me." She gave Alfred the bags and entered the car. Her head turned away from the mansion and a handkerchief was held near her face.  
Alfred stepped close to him, whispered, and returned to the car.  
Bruce stood with hands in pockets, head bowed, and shoulders drooped. He stayed near the door and watched until the car had reached the gates.   
  
***  
  
The Bentley moved into the traffic of the highway and headed for the airport. Alfred kept quiet. Lara dabbed the handkerchief on the corner of her eyes and sniffled.  
On the road to the airport the car turned onto an access road that led to a number of hangars.   
Lara became puzzled as soon as she noticed the hangars. "Alfred, this is not the airport terminal! Where are you taking me?"  
"The private jet of Wayne Enterprises is awaiting your arrival. I thought it would be a more prudent way to travel to London than to contend with the crowd at the commercial airline counters. Especially for a person of your prestige and notoriety, and also the fact that you carry firearms."  
The car stopped near the doorway of an open hangar. Alfred removed the luggage from the trunk and walked inside to a nearby Learjet. An attendant took the bags and stored them on the plane.  
The pilot came out and approached them. "We will be leaving in twenty minutes. I have to submit our flight schedule to the tower and then go through a final checklist." He went to a corner office and entered.  
"Alfred, when were you able to arrange this?" she asked.  
"Master Bruce arranged it after we had left."  
"Yes, of course. Mr. Bruce Wayne. Always the charmer."  
"Please, Miss Lara. Don't judge him too harshly. I regret the circumstances you had to suffer through during your stay with us. In regards to the pain you are handling, we all feel sadness for you, especially Master Bruce. But I would like to make this statement. Of all the people I know, and all the people I met in this world, there is no finer person... no finer gentleman... than he."  
She sighed. "My intentions are to believe you, but I know he is your employer."  
"I have been associated with Master Bruce even before his uncle took him in after the death of his parents, and I have been with him all his life since then. I assure you, I know him quite well."  
Lara stopped and thought. "Alfred, do you know all his associates and employees?"  
"Only those he allows me to know."  
"Please be honest with me. The private investigator Bruce Wayne employs. Is he the vigilante that roams about Gotham City? The one the newspapers call the Batman?"  
Alfred's eyebrows twitched. "I'm sorry, Miss Lara. Due to the confidential nature of that question, I cannot say who is employed as an investigator."  
"I understand." Her eyes lowered.  
"The only person who could answer that is Master Bruce." He smiled and handed her a cell phone.  
She hugged him. "Thank you, Alfred. Please keep me informed when Steven's memorial is scheduled."  
"I most certainly will. Have a pleasant flight, Miss Lara."  
She entered the plane and fastened the seat belt. Through the window she watched Alfred walk to the car and drive away. She leaned back into the seat and tapped the cell phone on her knee.  
The pilot approached the plane. "Excuse me, Dr. Croft. Commissioner Gordon, of the Gotham City Police Department, needs to speak with you. I'm having the office patch the line over to the plane's phone."  
Lara picked up the phone. "Hello, Commissioner. What can I do for you?"  
"We found some golden artifacts in a bag on a lifeboat. I'm sure they belong to you but I need you to come to the station and identify them."  
"I'm just about to leave the country. The British government is calling me back for a private meeting. When I return, I will stop by and identify them."  
"Do you know when that will be?"  
"I know I am scheduled to lecture at the Galleria this coming weekend. Whether the Prime Minister allows me to leave before then I cannot say for sure. Let me call you when I know for certain."  
"All right, Dr. Croft. I'll see you when you get back."  
"Goodbye, Commissioner."  
The pilot entered and headed for the cockpit. "Five more minutes and then we will be on our way. Just have to do a final checklist."  
Lara tapped the cell phone on her knee. Then the phone was held in front and looked at for a few seconds. She opened it and pressed the buttons. "Star, two, two, eight."  
The phone beeped, buzzed, and clicked.  
"Wayne Manor. Bruce Wayne speaking."  
She hesitated. "Bruce."  
"Yes, Lara."  
"You didn't have to arrange a flight on your private jet for me. I could have managed on my own."  
The phone was silent.  
"But I am glad you did."  
"Well, I wanted to be sure our business relationship didn't continue on such sour beginnings," he said.  
"Touché."  
"What did you say?"  
"Nothing really. Umm... Bruce, I want to continue our conversation we had started at the concert hall."  
"Regarding?"  
"Secrets. You wanted to know what happened in China, and I was about to ask you a question."  
"Yes, I remember. What was it you wanted to know?"  
She took a deep breath. "Not right now, but I want you to schedule the time to spend with me when I return. I would like to share some secrets with you, if you are willing to share some with me."  
The phone was silent for a few seconds.  
"When will you return?" he asked.  
"I don't know how long the Prime Minister will need me. I'll have to call you when I arrive back in the states. Listen, I have to stop now. The pilot has signaled we are ready to go." She pulled back the loose strands of hair. "Goodbye, Bruce."  
"Goodbye, Lara. Have a good flight home."  
She closed the phone.  
The plane taxied along the runway. Without hesitation the engines whined and the plane accelerated. It eased gently into the air and then pitched at a steep angle.  
The top of the dark skyscrapers of Gotham City came into view. A number of buildings had gargoyles perched on the corners. Lara squinted her eyes and looked at every figure, until the city disappeared under a white cloud.  
  
END  
  



End file.
